


A Window Between Time

by HisDarkMaterialsFan



Series: The Origin of Dust [2]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Brazil in Lyra's world, Danger, F/M, Hunted, Inter-world travel, Oakley Street's army, Time Travel, huge plot twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisDarkMaterialsFan/pseuds/HisDarkMaterialsFan
Summary: This is the second part of the Origin of Dust series, but if you haven't read the first one, please do before you read this one! Everything which you read in this fanfic will not make sense unless you've read the first one! Enjoy! :)
Relationships: Kirjava & Will Parry, Kirjava/Pantalaimon, Lyra Belacqua & Pantalaimon, Lyra Belacqua & Serafina Pekkala, Lyra Belacqua/Iorek Byrnison, Lyra Belacqua/Will Parry, Lyra Belaqua/Josephine Alcott, Malcolm Polstead/Alice Lonsdale, Mary Malone/Will Parry, Valdese Gramovski/Will Parry, Will Parry/Elaine Parry
Series: The Origin of Dust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731001
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. The Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of the Origin of Dust series, but if you haven't read the first one, please do before you read this one! Everything which you read in this fanfic will not make sense unless you've read the first one! Enjoy! :)

William James Parry had gained the power of the most powerful weapon in all the worlds, he had gone into the world of the dead and killed angels, but he could never fathom how he could ever love someone so much. How anybody could love anyone else so much. Everything about the woman lying down on the bed was perfect- her hair, her face and everything she does.

As Will came into the room, undressing, he could’ve fallen in love with her again even if none of his fibres in his body ached for her already. He slowly crept under the sheets, careful not to wake her up, but she flickered open her eyelid and smiled as she saw Will lie down next to him. 

Before Will could say or do anything, she engulfed him in a long, passionate kiss. Will felt as she fell on top of him, and he shifted over to the other side of the bed. He was only seventeen…

But Lyra had different ideas, and Will wasn’t disagreeing. He loved her so much, and would do anything for her. He didn’t give two shits if age got in the way of their relationship- they hadn’t done that three years ago, had they?

He couldn't see where his and Lyra’s daemons were, but he felt that they were doing something equally brilliant and soul-binding. 

Will aligned their bodies and slid into Lyra again, every single moment feeling like paradise. His intensity of his love for her petrified him, but he knew that all the fighting was over. He could live a normal life, with the one person he loved with him through everything which would happen to them. Because right there and then, they were so close together that they were like one person. 

Lyra arched her back as she groaned for more movement, as her hips moved in time with his thrusts, making a rhythm which Will couldn’t help but abide to. 

But as Will knew very well, all good things had to come to an end. Exhausted and reluctantly, he left the bed to put some lighter clothes on as Lyra did the same. He didn’t feel awkward undressing in front of her, but he felt weird and awkward when she was undressing in front of him. He wasn’t sure why, but before he could say anything about it to her, they were dragging each other back down under the sheets, pulling on the other one’s clothes, passionately kissing each other and Will built another similar rhythm with his thrusts, and Lyra let him lead as she fell asleep with her whole body naked in his arms. 

* * *

Mary didn’t know what to say to the two children-nearly adults at breakfast, as they all sat down over breakfast. Elaine had got up extra early, which both Will and Mary had agreed wasn’t a good idea and shouldn’t happen again, to cook a huge breakfast which filled everyone’s stomachs and to be fair to her, was extremely nice. 

But Mary could sense the tension over everyone, which would always have happened. Two people at the table were from a different world, one was an ex-Russian contract killer who could travel between worlds, and Will had just clearly made love to Lyra. 

But they weren’t trying to hide it, it wasn’t the typical awkward and nervous relationship which kids their age usually had, because they had never tried to hide their love for each other, ever since they discovered their unprecedented feelings for each other four years ago. 

‘So, did everybody sleep well?’ Mary asked, trying to release some of the tension.

Most of them nodded, and Will and Lyra shared a look of pleasure and excitement. Mary smiled at him, happy for the two of them, but also worried that it wasn’t right for them to be spending that much time with each other. 

Will rolled his eyes back at Mary, but she felt like at least there was a bit less tension in the room.

While Valdese feasted on every single piece of toast which the toaster coughed up, every single sausage which came out of the oven and every single can of beer which he could find in the fridge, Will explained to Josephine about the situation with the other apartment which they were buying with the money from their old house. 

‘There’s a nice one just a two minute walk from here, which has two-bedrooms, two-bathrooms and is well within our budget. Me, you and Lyra could probably move in there if we can manage to buy it.’ Will told her.

Mary felt that she was generating some awkwardness now because of all the things the Cave had told her the night before. 

‘Will and Lyra, please may I speak to you two for a second,’ Mary asked, getting up and walking out of the kitchen. 

Will and Lyra had a shared look of confusion on their face when they walked into the room behind her. 

‘We have to leave the apartment. As soon as possible. The cave told me. I know you think the fighting is over, and you want everything to be normal again, but I’m afraid I don’t know if it will ever be normal again.’ She told them. As she delivered the news, she could see how close together they stood, how protective Will was, and how her hand clung to his like she would die if she strayed too far away from him. 

‘But… Why? Did it tell you?’ Lyra asked.

‘It said something about a war, and that if we don’t fight in it, we will lose.’

‘So where do we need to go, and how can we trust it?’ Will asked, hoping with every particle in his body that what Mary said wasn’t true.

‘I asked it that, but it was really impatient. It just said that we just had to get somewhere out of this world.’

Will slammed his fist down on the table. A glass vase with months-old flowers on it fell off, crashing on the floor as a piece of glass lodged itself in his leg. 

‘Bullshit!’

Will left angrily, followed quickly by Lyra, who gave an apologetic look to Mary before going back up to the bedroom with him. 

‘Will… Will. How about if I ask my alethiometer? Then will you believe it?’ Lyra asked, because although she didn’t want it to be true, she knew that Mary wouldn’t lie like that.

‘It’s not that I don’t believe it. It’s that it’s so bloody unfair. We’ve already done so much for this universe. Why can’t it pick on some other people. Why is it always us?’ he asked, as Kirjava and Pantalaimon trotted into the room. 

‘You know, it really was also quite unfair that you left it to us to apologise to the rest of the house for _your_ rudeness,’ Kirjava told him, to which Will couldn’t help but smile at his daemon’s playful dignity.

‘Will has got a point though. We just want to live a normal life, but the universe en’t leaving us alone. It is constantly getting entwined with our lives, even when we’ve done so much, sacrificed so much for the universe and it is refusing to piss off,’ Lyra backed up Will.

‘But maybe if we do this, then it will leave us alone, and we can live together, and not get bothered by the universe ever again,’ Pan counted.

‘But what if we do this and you die during whatever we need to do. I would never be able to live with myself.’ Will said. 

While Will, Pan and Kirjava continued to argue, Lyra checked under the bed, and saw to her relief that her alethiometer was there, sitting politely in its case, waiting to be used. 

She framed the question as well as she could, trying to remember how she had done it as a girl, and all the things Dame Hannah had taught her.

_Do we have to do what the Cave is telling us to do?_

_Yes._

_Should we do it?_

_Yes._

_Will either of us die during it?_

It didn’t give the answer to that, and Lyra remembered that it didn’t foretell anything, it only gave her answers to questions of the present and of the past. Not of the future.

‘I asked my alethiometer, it said that we have to go. It can’t tell me whether either of us will die, but if we have to do it, then I think we should do it.’

‘That settles it, then. But first, Lyra, can you ask it where we have to go?’ Will asked.

After briefly thinking of how to frame the questions, she got the answer.

‘We have to go… it said something about Cittagazze… something about the subtle knife… and I think something about a sibling… It came back with the Wild Man, which was definitely about a sibling of some sort… the sword, which was referring to the subtle knife… and the hourglass which was referring to the origin of something. Maybe… the origin of Dust? No… I think it’s getting at something about the origin of the knife. I think- I might be going crazy- but I think it said something about Giacomo Paradisi, which would be relevant if it was about the knife.’ Lyra told them. 

‘Maybe the cave could give us more information,’ Kirjava suggested.

Will had been thinking the same thing as his daemon, and he left the room, still angry, and went to where the Cave was. As he passed the kitchen, he saw that everyone else was still eating. He felt half-guilty for leaving, but was in too much of a bad temper to apologise.

The Cave was situated in the living room, on the wooden table, connected to the television. None of the windows were open, in case somebody saw it and got suspicious. Sometimes Will thought they took the safety measures too far.

He sat down and put the headset on as Lyra followed him into the door. As he sat down, she put a comforting hand on his shoulder. His rage immediately subsided, like putting out a fire. 

_Where do we have to go?_

_Cittagazze._

_Do we have to go back to the Torre degli Angeli?_

_Yes._

_But what is the purpose?_

_When you went into the Tower of Angels before, you saw a basement. You go down into the basement, down another three sets of stairs, and three angles will be standing guard over a pair of grand, heavy doors which lead to a room. In the room, you will see coffins of every knife owner before you, but behind all of those is another room. Go into that room, and you will find what you are looking for. But the Magisterium are also going there. They have angles on their side, and they also have a new leader. But you have to get there before them. Otherwise you will lose the war. Every single world is doomed._

_But how can they travel between worlds when Valdese is on our side?_

_They have… questionable methods._

Will was going to ask more questions, but he heard a distant sobbing, but when he took the headset, he heard it was actually Lyra, but she had gone back to the bedroom. 

He wasn’t sure if she wanted to be alone, so to be safe, she stood nervously on the other side of the door while Kirjava walked in, leaping up elegantly next to Lyra. 

Sending shivers down Lyra’s spine, Kirjava put her paw onto Lyra’s thigh. 

Will listened intently from outside the door, but Lyra knew that he cared for her so much to do that, so she told him to come in. Will breathed a sigh of relief. 

Her eyes were glistening with tears, and her skirt and the bed sheets were covered in them. 

Even Pan was in her lap, tears coming out of his eyes. Will would never have thought he would see a pine marten cry. At least, before he met Lyra.

She kept mumbling the word, ‘Roger’, over and over again, and Will remembered the pale, thin little boy who they had seen in the world of the dead. He remembered how Lyra had described to him how Roger had died, and how she had been inches away from him, and had the front row seat as he sat helplessly in the metal cage while her father killed her best and only true friend. 

He sat down next to her, gently caressing her hair as the tears continued falling freely from her face. 

‘We need to stop them.’ Lyra said, the words barely making it out of her mouth.

‘The Magisterium?’ Will asked softly, to which she nodded.

‘Those sons of bitches who kill children without a care in the world.’

* * *

Although the pain in his leg was agonising, Malcolm Polstead and his daemon, Asta, were assisted by Alice when they had to walk to the meeting place. 

Despite the fact that he had only been there for a few days, High Brasil had not failed to surprise him. It was by far the most brilliant and exciting place he had ever been, with beaches where people surfed the towering waves and the sand was as soft as silk, the cities were bursting with vibrant and vast varieties of colour. 

Even the meeting place, which he would’ve expected to be boring and dull, greeted them with beautiful paintings and tapestries, and you wouldn’t have been able to tell that it was for a more formal purpose than all the other buildings. 

At the front door, though, there were three armed guards who were probably there protecting the president, which Malcolm could’ve anticipated. They asked for their ID, which they then realised was still on the boat, which would never be seen again. 

‘If you tell President Dias that we are Oakley Street, and we are here for the meeting.’ Candace told the guards, as one went inside the building briefly. When he came out again, he gave the green light for them to be allowed into the meeting place.

There was a huge table in the middle of a room which had green walls which were painted with drawings of animals, from snakes to monkeys, spiders to piranhas. Malcolm would’ve guessed that it was just a huge tapestry of the Amazon rainforest, which he had studied when he was in university. 

President Dias sat at the head of the table, and when he saw Oakley Street enter, he stood up and greeted them. There were three other people sitting next to him. One was armed, so Asta presumed he was a personal bodyguard, there was another one who had two books in front of him, one which was written in English, so Malcolm knew that he must’ve been a translator. And the final one was dressed smartly in a suit, sitting with a perfect posture, and with not a hint of humanity on his face. He was probably a secretary.

The witches came in behind them, just Serafina and Tilda, and the President shook hands with them as well. They each had allocated seats at the table, which they sat down at, admiring the artwork around them.

Once everyone had sat down at the table, the President started talking. 

‘Sinto muito para o inappropriate; isto e um crianças berçário. De qualquer forma, você está precisando da nossa assistência. Eu acredito que e por isso você chamou essa reunião.’ President Dias spoke, no Oakley Street member having any idea what he was saying, but the translator cleared it up. 

‘I am sorry for the inappropriateness; this place is used as a children’s nursery. Anyway, do you need our assistance? I believe that is why you called this meeting.’

Candace, even when injured, was still able to lead the meeting for Oakley Street, and Malcolm knew how good she was at negotiating.

‘Yes, we believe that the Magisterium are going to try and conquer all the other worlds, and that they will destroy our’s in the process. But there is a prophecy which counters this, and we have been tasked by the witches,’ Candace gestured towards Tilda Vasara, who sat next to Malcolm,’to create an army which we should fight the Magisterium with.’

‘Sim, acreditamos que o Magisterium indo tentar e conquistar todos os outros mundos, e que eles destruirão os nossos no processo. Mas há uma profecia que contraria isso, e fomos incumbidos pelas bruxas para criar um exército que devemos lutar contra Magisterium com.’ 

Malcolm and Asta both listened intently as Candace negotiated as politely as she could. From many previous instances in the past nine years which Candace had been their leader, everyone who was a member of Oakley Street knew that she was an amazing negotiator- always getting what she wanted, but never abusing that power. 

Malcolm didn’t bother to listen to anything which was said in Portugese- Malcolm wasn’t fluent in that language- but he picked everything which was said in English.

‘So how big are you building this army, and why are you calling on us?’ the translator repeated the President.

‘We are going to build the army as big as we can, because we don’t know anything about how the Magisterium are going to fight. But we haven’t just called on you, we have also called on King Ogunwe and his troops in Africa, because we believe here and there are the two regions which have the least control from the Magisterium.’

‘I understand. But I think I speak for all my people, and I am sure King Ogunwe will be saying this as well, when I ask how will this benefit us, and what will happen if we don’t decide to help you?’

Despite the fact that President Carlos Dias was clearly also a skilled negotiator, going through all the precautions that he should do, he had just played himself into Candace’s trap. It was exactly what she had wanted him to say. 

It was if they were playing a game of chess, and President Dias had just unwillingly and unknowingly played his King into a spot where it didn’t stand a chance. 

‘I can answer both of your questions, President. It won’t just benefit you, but it will benefit everyone if we will because we will live in a world without the Magisterium controlling us; a world free of the ominous threat which looms over us constantly. And if you don’t help us, then you and your country will watch as everything good in the world slowly fades away.’ Candace counters.

After the translator told the President what Candace had just said, Malcolm was sure it was going to be a checkmate, and so did everyone else at the table. But apparently not.

‘And if we lose?’

This was a shock to everyone at the table, except from Candace seemingly. 

‘Then it will have the same outcome as if you didn’t help us.’ 

There it was. That was the checkmate. Malcolm presumed she had just been playing with the President, which was probably not the best look, but she had just been demonstrating her power and ability. 

‘Fine, we will help and support you in your fight. You were right in coming to us; we have an extremely strong army, and we are tired of being controlled by the Magisterium- like puppets under the puppet master. As the president of this country, I think it is in our best interest to help you. We will also welcome you into High Brasil and offer you completely free food and accommodation until we need to fight.’

Malcolm smiled; although he knew how powerful candace was when it came to negotiating, but even he had been surprised at how she had manipulated and toyed with the President of High Brasil, and how good the outcome had been. 

‘Thank, you President Dias.’ Candace said before one of the guards led them out of the building and to the hotel where they would be staying, and it was nothing short of perfect. Malcolm presumed that this meant they could all enjoy their short time in High Brasil. 

  
  



	2. The Window

Will, Lyra, Josephine and Valdese were all accompanying each other as they went to Cittagazze, doing exactly what the Cave and the alethiometer told them to do. 

Mary and Elaine were staying behind, because Will knew his mother would definitely not be able to cope with it and she needed someone to stay with her. Mary had also got Will out of school, seeing as he had already got his PhD a year early and consequently the last few years of school would then be deemed utterly pointless. 

As Will said goodbye to Mary and his mother- Lyra holding onto his hand as he promised them he would be back as soon as possible- Valdese opened the window into Cittagazze. Josephine had been informed exactly what it looked like, so she was helping to explain it to the Russian. Evin, walking with no real purpose, weaving herself between his legs, spotted an Italian-like town through one of the windows which her human opened, and queried Josephine to see if that was the right one. She said probably, because she had never been there before. But it did look as stunning as Will and Lyra had described. 

They stood in a small crowd of trees, where there were glimpses of the actual city. There was a small, distant sound of chatter but neither Josephine, Valdese nor their daemons could decipher what was being said. As the two lovers kept up with them, they confirmed that this was definitely Cittagazze. 

Lyra looked and recalled her memories of the harbour which was just on their left. The buildings all still had the same vivid and vibrant colours and the palm trees still swayed in the slight, refreshing breeze. 

The cobblestone pavement outlined the road and small cafes were dotted around the street, and Will immediately recognised many of the buildings; the first one he had been in, the one where he had found the lemonade, and of course the one where he had first met Lyra. 

Standing in a circle, they all gazed upwards at what looked like a picturesque city which had just been taken right out a picture book or something. The weather was extremely hot and humid as Valdese felt his sleeveless start to stick to his muscular and toned body. 

Despite this, it was a huge wave of relief for Evin who had spent the last few weeks in freezing temperatures, much colder than her thin coat was made for. Able to separate from her human, she bounded eagerly yet cautiously forward, scouting out for any other sounds of life and from where the voices she had heard earlier were.

Then she heard the first ear-piercing scream. Her heart stopped as she nervously checked behind her to see if it came from their small party, but they had also heard it too, and it hadn’t come from them. She let them catch up with her, and they entered the house which she assumed the scream had come from. 

Evin saw it before anyone else did. She carefully made her way up the staircase, checking for any movements. Then she saw a body with no daemon sprawled helplessly on the floor, a shocked and desperate expression. She was dead, and must’ve been killed when she wasn’t expecting it. Then a shape, something like a shadow but also somehow like an angel hurled itself at Evin. She swiped a paw at it, but she felt no flesh, no skin, nothing. It was as if she was attacking thin air. 

The Spectre went in for another attack, ready to get double its normal meal, but Evin sprinted back down the stairs as the other followed suit. One glance backwards told Will and Lyra exactly what they had presumed. 

The Spectre hurried after them, levitating slightly over the burning ground. Will reached for the knife in his sheath and he hoped to god that it could still slice through anything. He turned around and nearly fumbled the knife out of his hand, but he quickly found the familiar feel of the handle. He held it up, the sharp end pointing directly at the Spectre which stopped abruptly in front of him. It slowly advanced on him, and Will fought the urge to run. Kirjava stood her ground as well, baring her teeth ferociously. 

The others watched intently as Will took on the Spectre. 

The near-invisible figure which was clouded in a black, ominous shroud jumped at Will, its hands reaching out to claw at Kirjava, but he jumped back, and his daemon did exactly the same. The knife was still out in front of him, and he was prepared to use it, but his mind was trying to figure out whether it would kill a Spectre. But the Spectre was rearing back for another attack, and Will knew that if he waited for too long other Spectres would come and finish them all off. It leapt up at Will and instead of moving out of the way, Will met the Spectre in the middle with the knife. He plunged it into the centre of the horrible thing which stood in front of him. 

He half-expected to feel the knife go the whole way through like he was trying to slice through air, but it met something solid in between and the Spectre which stood before him fell to the ground and slowly disintegrated. 

For the first time in what had felt like hours, Will breathed. When they had re-entered Cittagazze, he and Lyra had completely forgotten about the Spectres. 

Valdese walked towards the place on the road where the Spectre had died, Evin just behind him, as they observed the faint, almost transparent being which was slowly decomposing. Its hand was still stretched out from when it had tried to grab for Kirjava and slowly and painfully suck the life out of her and Will. 

‘There will be others,’ Will informed him, kneeling to get a closer look at the Spectre. 

But the presence of Lyra and Josephine behind them reminded the two men that they still had a task to complete. 

‘Lyra, you take Josephine to the Torre degli Angeli, Will and I are going to stay back to try and see if we can find something about the Spectre which might give us an advantage if we cross paths with another one.’ Evin told them.

Will was reluctant to part ways with Lyra, even if it was for just a few minutes, but he ultimately knew that Valdese was right, and that none of the others would be able to fight off the Spectres if they attacked. 

Lyra led the way as she had been there before, until she saw the towering building which she recognised. She remembered the first time she had seen it, and how she had felt like there had been a magnetic pull towards it. How ironic that now it was as if it was telling her to go away and it was repelling her away?

‘I’m presuming this is the building. Do you remember exactly what the Cave told you?’ Jairus, perched on Josephine’s shoulder, asked. 

‘Yeah- Will and I went over it before. It said that there was a set of stairs which led into… a sort of basement. We need to go there.’ Lyra explained. 

The great set of doors loomed over them, and as Josephine and Lyra pushed them open, neither of them could help but feel a cold shiver run down their spines. It was as if the very building was screaming at them to leave. 

Lyra remembered when she and Will had come here before, and how they had claimed the knife and saved Giacomo Paridisi. 

Lyra did see the stairs which the alethiometer must have meant, and as Pan nervously leapt down them two at a time, the great set of doors opened again as Will, Valdese and their daemons caught up with them. 

The staircase felt like it went on forever. Lyra could’ve sworn that it took at least two hours to get down all of the stairs, where they eventually came to another set of doors. 

These were smaller, and when Lyra timidly pushed them open, she gasped at how similar the room looked compared to the cellar at Jordan College, the final route she had taken with Roger, she thought as an unwanted tear appeared at the corner of her eye. 

The room itself was massive, with grey stone walls where time had left its mark. There were stone griffins at each wall, and there were about one hundred coffins, which were positioned in a square with narrow passage-ways which you could just about move through. The only lighting came from a few torches which were hung up on the walls, and at the end of the room, Lyra could see yet another set of doors, but one thing was missing. She couldn’t see any angels. Maybe it was just because of the lack of light, she thought to herself, although she could see out of the corner of her eye that Will had noticed the same thing.

‘This must be where all of the previous knife owners have been buried,’ Will suggested,’but who would’ve put them there?’

‘Probably angels,’ Valdese answered.

Content enough with that answer, they split up because there was no way more than one person could move through the room at the same passage, and searched the room for anything which was useful.

Will couldn’t help but think that if he hadn’t snapped the knife, if he would’ve been buried here. With a pang of sorrow, he saw the name ‘Giacomo Paridisi engraved into one of the coffins. Some of the coffins had another name underneath, which Will could only assume was the daemon’s, and they all had a timeline, from a certain date to another, which Will thought was the time they had been in possession of the subtle knife. 

When she was nearing the mid-twentieth century, a name caught Kirjava’s eye. She had been leaping elegantly from coffin to coffin, which Will wasn’t sure was the most respectable thing to do, when another familiar name caught her eye. 

Unsure if she had been mistaking what she had seen, she called her human over. Sure enough, her eyesight hadn’t failed her, as usual. 

Will gasped as he saw what was engraved in the coffin. 

‘Er… Valdese, you may want to come over and see this.’

As the Russian and his sleek jaguar daemon walked over, they stopped in pure shock as they saw what was written on the coffin.

The name which was engraved was  _ Alexander Gramovski. _

* * *

Father Montgomery had no issues with murdering children to be able to travel between worlds, after all, the CCD had done worse, but he wasn’t sure if it would work.    
Lord Asriel had only been able to achieve it because of the presence of the Northern Lights, and even then it depended greatly on the time, which the Magisterium didn’t have, but if everything went according to plan, they would have as much as they wanted. 

But they had multiple test subjects which Father Montgomery and his assistant, Father Jian, had supervised, and had worked nearly-perfectly (one of the daemons had bitten the hand off one of the guards).

So Montgomery was feeling quite good about himself when he was informed by Fra Pavel about everything the alethiometer had told him. 

With a superb intellectual and scheming talent, Montgomery and nor was Jian surprised that he had anticipated every single minute detail which the alethiometer had said.

Finally, he knew that he was one step ahead of the children who had somehow outsmarted and outfought the CCD and was in some way a huge threat to the Magisterium, and he knew nothing was going to change that. 

Now all he and his assistant had to do was wait.    
The city of Cittagazze was surprisingly nice and pleasant, and Father Montgomery sat down with his assistant as far away from the Torre degli Angeli as possible still with eyes on the building. 

The particular cafe they had chosen had many bottles of wine behind the till, and there were some very nice-looking cakes just sitting in round glass cabinets, as if they were asking to be eaten. But the churchman hadn’t seen any sign of humanity yet in that world, and consequently he presumed they were out of date. But if everything happened as he wanted it, then he might treat himself to a small glass of wine, he thought to himself. 

They did see the children and Gramovski briefly, being attacked by a Spectre, before the boy killed it. That did surprise the two Magisterium men. The boy must still have the original knife, so he could also travel between worlds. But it wouldn’t matter. 

Father Jian had also developed a way of manipulating the Spectres and some angels, which had been extremely useful, and had proved nearly fatal to the children, who were nearly killed by the one which the churchmen had set upon them.

Just in case they managed to somehow escape from the Tower of Angels, there were at least twenty armed Magisterium men who were positioned in subtle positions where they had an easy shot at the entrance to the building. 

They had everything planned out, and as the children and Gramovski finally entered the tower, time seemed to have been stretched to its limit as they waited for any sign of survival.

  
  


* * *

When all of the party saw the name engraved on the stone, there wasn’t a single audible sound in the whole of the room. Not a gasp. Not a shuffle of feet. Not a breath. They all just stared in shock at the coffin and the name it bared. 

Then Valdese turned away, Evin quickly leaping onto another coffin as they made their way to the end of the room, where they had been sent by the Cave. 

The rest of the party let him have some time alone, and Will recalled everything the Russian had told him about his family. The big trips they had gone on were clearly to go to another world, where maybe they had another child, which then meant they weren’t sure if Valdese would’ve survived in the other world, and that one of his parents… had been from Lyra’s world!

Will passed his theory onto his daemon, who stood awkwardly by his legs, and Kirjava agreed with her human. It explained everything. How he could survive in another world, how his parents had died and how he could travel between worlds at will. 

On second thoughts, Will passed on to Kirjava, it doesn’t explain how his parents died, but it did inform him that if he and Lyra ever have a child, they would be able to survive in either world and would be able to travel between them at will, just like Valdese.

‘Will’, the boy recognised that low, gruff yet somehow friendly voice anywhere,’there’s nothing here.’

Will looked at him in surprise. He was sure that the Cave and the alethiometer both wouldn’t have lied, but he, Lyra, Josephine and their daemons all saw with their own eyes that Valdese wasn’t lying. 

‘Shit,’ was all that came out of Will’s mouth.

They had been sent on a wild goose chase. But when the party turned round, annoyed and irritated, to leave the building and that world, they saw something much, much worse. 

Its orange body was consuming the room, engulfing everything that stood in its way mercilessly. Its arms were gripping onto the coffins before burning them into spare pieces of gravel. The fire roared at them as it advanced.

Beside him, Will could see Valdese close his eyes as he attempted to open a window into another world. But after a long and tedious wait, it opened for them to be greeted by a wall of impenetrable rock. 

‘Shit!’ Will cursed again as he remembered when that had happened to him in the world of the dead.

The fire raged on, but Will saw that because of the sheer size of the room, they would have at least a few minutes before it devoured them. Lyra clung to his waist as Josephine let out a muffled cry, and Valdese continued to try and open a window. But nothing was going to help their cause. 

Just when he had reached what he had known was the pinnacle of happiness, which he had had for about a day, the cruel world had snatched it away from him yet again. He knew that there was no way out of this. 

He struck through one of the windows with the knife, slicing into a slab of soil, but he realised by the time he reached the surface, they would be dead, and the fire would catch up with them. 

Then with that thought came an idea, like a light bulb flickering into existence. It was very unlikely that it would work, but he knew that they didn’t have a better option. 

‘Valdese, keep opening more windows. Do it as fast as you can. But don’t close any either. Make them like a horizontal line across the room just in front of us’, he gestured where he was referring to,’and make them as big as you can.’

The Russian followed his firm orders, seeing what Will was getting at. Will, having possessed the knife and made many windows into other worlds, knew exactly how to do it and the limitations of a window. 

He told Valdese exactly where to open each window and how big to make it, like a film where Will was directing Valdese. 

Everyone in that room was  _ too  _ aware of the looming threat which presented itself as a huge fire which was now only about a minute from destroying and killing them all. 

Then the fire was upon them, but Valdese had done all that was possible and the wall of cuts in the fabric between the worlds. The windows all showed a different picture, but the same thing, like an art gallery where there were multiple paintings of the same thing. Will wondered whether the last thing he would ever see was about twenty different types of mud, soil and rock. 

But it was going exactly how Will had hoped, as the windows welcomed the fire into open arms, and the small flames which escaped through the wall were immediately put out when it had nothing to attach itself to, like a lamp flickering out.

There was a horrible burning smell in the air and an equally horrible sound as the ground and fire fought against each other, two forces colliding. The fire was decreased into withers as the soil was left burned and charred but more importantly the fire was put out and no one had been hurt. 

However, the fire had left its mark on the room as Will came to the realisation that the Magisterium must have set the fire through a bomb or something. Only a few of the coffins still stood, and when Will felt one, it immediately burned his finger, and it was revealing lots and lots of charred carcases and skeletons on the floor. Lyra let out a small whimper. Valdese’ eyes instinctively jumped to where his father’s coffin had been, and he felt a few tears swell up in his eyes when he saw his father’s dead body; the sarcophagus was no longer holding him as it had burned. 

But he wiped his eyes, recalling all the times he had cried before, which was easy- the only time he had ever cried was when he had been informed that both his parents had died, and he was still ashamed of crying then. 

The air still held a boiling, humid feeling about it and Will’s suggestion to get out of there before another fire was set off was eagerly accepted. 

But when they were half the way up the huge staircase which had led them down into that hell-pit, another few sets of footsteps were made audible when Valdese told them all to stop. 

It was still a while away, but they were coming closer by the second, and Valdese reached for his pistol, his grip tight as his finger moved quickly down to the trigger. 

Will reluctantly moved his hand down his body as he felt for the knife, finding it in the sheath, but when he took it out, he felt the warmth of Lyra’s hand on top of his.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’ She told him.

Will had no idea what he had done to deserve someone as brilliant and beautiful as the woman who stood beside him.

‘I wish I did have a choice,’ he practically breathed onto her cheek, before leaning in for a quick but satisfying kiss.

The Magisterium, who Will knew it had to be, didn’t know they were also on the staircase, because when the first one came into sight, he was rendered clueless when the bullet entered his skull. Will also knew that there was no holding back for Valdese since he learned the truth about his parents. The only thing that must have been going on in his head was  _ these people killed my parents. These people deserve to die. They only ever wanted to use me, after they had killed my family. _

He fell to the floor with a gut-wrenching crack as blood spilled everywhere, staining their shoes.

Valdese heard quiet voices above them- they had clearly heard the crack- and they all prepared for a fight.

Valdese reached for the dead man’s pistol, and handed it to Will, who shook his head but took it anyway. He offered it to Lyra and then Josephine, but knew that they would also decline, so he placed it gently on one of the steps before yanking the knife out of his sheath again. 

Now it was a game of who made the first move. Both groups, one higher up and one lower down on the staircase, waited patiently for the other to make a single step forward. 

Then, with anger and pure frustration clouding his judgement, Valdese leapt forward and rained down the bullets on where he thought the men would be.

But they weren’t there. They weren’t anywhere to be seen. 

Although, to his confusion, there was a window which the bullets must have entered. But it wasn’t like a usual window, it wasn’t a window into another world either, because it opened into the ground above the Torre degli Angeli. Valdese recognised it as one of the cafes he had spotted earlier. He was about to close it when he stopped abruptly. He saw the familiar faces of Father Montgomery and Father Jian and before the window was closed, he saw a knife in the assistant’s hand raised. It looked so similar to the one he had seen with Will. 

The rest of the party looked on with the same confusion as Valdese pieced it all together. They had just fallen right into the Magisterium’s trap. 

There really had been something there to get, but the Magisterium had gotten there first, and they had been the voices Evin had heard. The fire had been set by them, and they must’ve thought it had killed them, because they weren’t expecting them when they had fought on the staircase, and the window hadn’t just been a window between distance. He remembered everything the alethiometer had said.

When he saw all of the confused looks he was getting from Will, Lyra, Josephine and their daemons, he told them the only part which now mattered.

‘The Magisterium have a knife similar to Will’s knife… but also different. Instead of cutting through worlds, it cuts through time.’

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! Both the big reveals in this chapter have been hinted at many times so far in the series, if you have been reading intently, especially in chapter nine of The Dust Beacon and chapter eleven of The Dust Beacon, when Will talks to Valdese about his parents, and also in the fact that he has been able to survive in Lyra's world. Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed! :)


	3. The Agency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iorek Byrnison is tricked while a new agency steps into the spotlight.

Father Montgomery was feeling extremely pleased with himself. Although the news had just come in from the alethiometer that Oliver Payne’s mission had failed and there were no survivors from their side, he had successfully outwitted the children and the Russian, and now he, or rather his assistant, was in possession of the most dangerous weapon in all the worlds. 

But he knew that Father Jian would never turn against him, and the only reason Montgomery let his assistant have it was because he was a lot more capable in a fight, and according to the alethiometer, there were side effects of being the owner of the knife, but Fra Pavel hadn’t got the answer to that question yet. 

As Father Montgomery sat in his study with Jian sat beside him, they put the knife down onto a table and shone a bright naphtha lamp onto it.

The design was extremely intricate and detailed. There were two very different sides of the blade and handle- one with angels and a skull on the handle and a zig-zag pattern up the blade, while the other was detailed with a clock on the handle and many different pictures running up the blade.

The two churchmen recognised most of the pictures, and they gathered that they each represented a different section of time. There was a picture of dinosaurs , a picture of cavemen, a drawing of ice, a picture of Jesus and a picture of many different factories, which probably were referring to the Industrial Revolution. 

Neither of them knew exactly how to use the weapon, but they were both able to make simple windows into where they had been a few minutes ago, a few hours ago, and Father Jian had once so far been able to make a window back into Bolvangar, where they had been about a month ago. 

Both of them, however, were able to make windows extremely far back in time, like when Father Montgomery opened a window into the Cretaceous period of the dinosaurs, because all he had to do was hold a simple state of mind while thinking about the time you wanted to travel to. 

Another thing which had intrigued them was what happened when you stabbed someone with it- whether it would be like a normal knife or it would do something different. It turned out that it was rather similar to opening a window with it; it was a normal knife when you stabbed someone except from if you were thinking about a specific period of time, such as the stone age, then it sent them back to that period of time. 

A few of the children they were using to travel between worlds were also used as test subjects, and when Father Montgomery stabbed one whilst thinking of the Ice Age, he opened a window to that time a few minutes later, to find the cold wind hurling itself at them and the freezing child had been instantly killed as he had landed rather unfortunately into a large stretch of water. 

Other than that, they knew the limitations and abilities of the knife from head to toe, or rather, from handle to tip. Although while it had been in the possession of his assistant, Father Montgomery had noticed that Father Jian had been a lot more angry, and a lot ruder and more rebellious than he normally was, and he had even killed three of the guards when they had entered the room for no reason at all. 

Despite the fact that the tall, strong man knew the limitations of the knife on its own, he had no idea the limitations of it when it was combined with someone such as himself. 

  
  


* * *

Iorek Byrnison didn’t like visitors - especially not human ones. Whilst he made some exceptions like for the girl, Lyra Silvertongue, and the boy, Will Parry, he despised most humans and avoided him and his kingdom from socialising with them.

But as the king, he knew that without constant human visitors trading and making deals with the Panserbørne, then Svalbard would not thrive like it was supposed to, and that was his job as king. 

But the certain visitors he was informed that he had today were different; and definitely for the worse. They were his least favourite visitors. As much as he hated humans, that was multiplied by a million for these certain beings. They had manipulated and tricked him - leaving him as a slave in the port of Trollesund. The Magisterium. 

Although he knew that his role and job restrained him from doing it, he wanted nothing more than to rip their heads off and tear their limbs apart, one by one. 

While he thought about doing just that, he noticed his personal servant come into his room, bowing his head nervously and opening his mouth to speak.

‘Your majesty, I am here to inform you that your visitors will be coming in any minute now. There are a few of them, and they say that they are here to negotiate about trade between Svalbard and Geneva. Although I know it is not my place to say, I get the feeling they were lying about that part, but don’t worry, you will have plenty of protection around you in case they try to harm you in some way.’ Iorgos, the slave, said, his voice trembling.

‘Thank you, Iorgos. I do also get that feeling.’

The bear-king was going to try and not kill all of the humans in that room when they walked in, but he did know that whatever they wanted to discuss, it wasn’t trade.

  
  


And Iorek Byrnison, unsurprisingly, was right. His thick, white, blood-stained coat bristled with anger as the four churchmen walked into the room. He didn’t recognise any of them, but knew that they all recognised him. 

He felt his body temperature rise up quickly as they all stood before him, briefly bowing and then standing back up, all waiting for him to say something. Stubbornly, though, he was determined not to open any conversation with these pathetic excuses for humans, so he made that clear by putting all his weight onto his hind legs and sitting back on his throne.

Eventually, to Iorek’s victory, the opponent had to submit.

‘As you probably have already figured out, we are not here to discuss trade, Your Majesty.’ The first one, with short black hair and stern blue eyes, stated.

‘You weren’t very subtle about it,’ Iorek commented, to the rise of the churchmen’s eyebrows.

‘As you probably already know as well, the Magisterium are not extremely… united, or at least not as united as we used to be, and that has to lead to many departments placing spies in other departments to gather information and oth-’

‘Get to the point already.’ 

‘Well, we have a few spies ourselves in the Consistorial Court of Discipline, and we have learned a few valuable things. Firstly, the CCD have lost possession of a very powerful man, who they had previously had captive. His name is Valdese Gramovski, and he is able to travel between worlds. The second thing we have learned is that they have gained the possession of what we believe is the most dangerous and powerful weapon in all of the worlds. It is a kind of life. There was one like this a few millenniums ago, but during the Great War, it was destroyed. And then, very recently, a band of angels lead by an angel called Xaphania, made a new knife knowingly, because they knew that this war which is coming can’t be won by the wrong side, so they created it to give it to the man, Valdese Gramovski, but instead the leader of the CCD had an angel who was working on the inside for him, and that angel told the leader everything he knew, and now the CCD have the weapon, and with it, they are almost certainly going to win the war which is undoubtedly coming soon.’ The same man had spoken the whole time, and his eyes didn’t leave the bear-king’s. His piercing blue eyes glared right into his very thoughts, which Iorek was not comfortable with in the slightest.

But he had just learned many things he had not known before. He did not know that there was a war coming, and which side to support, and also, when the man had mentioned travelling between worlds, his concentration had immediately been re-focused. 

His thoughts had inevitably swerved to the girl, Lyra Silvertongue, who he had grown to love so much, and his old comrade Lee Scoresby. 

‘Why exactly are you telling me this?’ Iorek asked.

‘Because we know that Svalbard houses the best warriors in this world.’

‘But aren’t you happy that the CCD will win the war? Isn’t that exactly what you want?’

The Magisterium man pondered over this for a second.

‘While we  _ should  _ be on the same side, and most d epartments of the Church will be, we… question their methods.’

‘So you’ve finally realised that they’re sick, horrible, selfish, murdering sons of bitches who have know idea where the line is!’ Iorek Byrnison shouted, roaring at the four men, three of them looking away, petrified, as Iorek remembered what they had been doing at Bolvangar.

‘Yes, you could say that. But we feel that if we fought them- not just us, but the whole of the Magisterium- and gained what they have, then we can still win the war for the right side, and the CCD will be no more.’

Iorek Byrnison physically felt sick. He could not believe what the men before him were proposing. 

He took a deep breath before shouting at them.

‘How dare you walk into this house, onto this island, and think that you can convince me that we should help you win the war for the wrong side! You think that you are serving someone above us all- some Almighty somebody! But you’re not; it’s all bullshit! You’re just like the CCD, so maybe think again next time you’re going to step foot on Svalbard again!’ He shouted, roaring as his fellow bears aggressively led the Churchmen out of the room. 

But unbeknownst to the bear-king, he had been being tricked. While the saying went that you couldn’t trick a bear, when their judgement was being clouded by a human emotion, such as love or anger, they were just as vulnerable as humans. 

It had all been a hoax. Whilst the four men distracted the bear-king, more churchmen had broken a very specific man out of the prison on Svalbard. Someone who knew a lot about their current objective. Someone with a grey beard and a serpent daemon. Someone called Professor Jotham Santelia.

* * *

Oakley Street had never experienced such luxury in their lives, and to Malcolm at least, luxury was a mild understatement. 

The weather was perfect- just above thirty degrees yet always with a faint, light and refreshing breeze, which was greatly appreciated. The particular hotel they were staying at was the best in the country, and for good reason as well. The rooms were huge and had everything you could want, and more, and whenever you wanted anything, there was a button on your bedside table which would call a waiter up. 

He enjoyed every second of his time with his fellow colleagues, but all of them weren’t completely unfocused; they were all wary in case the Magisterium somehow got to High Brasil and was looking for them. 

Another thing Malcolm and Asta were realising was about their love for Lyra. Previously they had thought that it had been passionate, thorough love which lover’s felt for each other. He had thought that it was just wrong for a man to have feelings for a girl that age. 

But now he realised what he was doing was for Lyra. Every time he had put his life at risk had been for Lyra. When he and Alice had stowed the baby away in his canal during the Great Flood. When he had joined Oakley Street. What he was doing now. And that love wasn’t like what lover’s felt for each other. It was like what parents felt for their children. But of course Lyra had never had any parents. It was unconditional love. He had never had a choice in it. He had rescued her and comforted her. He had cared for her and fed her when their lives had been in danger. Even the very first time he had set eyes upon her, he had loved her straight away. After figuring that out, he had felt a lot more relieved. Like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. 

‘This is bloody beautiful.’ Alice’s soft and comforting voice brought him back to the present.

All of the Oakley Street members in High Brasil were standing on Bud’s balcony, where they were watching the sunset as the combining colours made a beautiful, powerful pink in the distance, on the horizon. 

The sea stretched out before them, glistening as the sun sunk down into it. 

Asta was perched on the ledge, leaning forward slightly to get a better view. Malcolm wasn’t worried for his daemon, but did pass a thought onto her to lean back a little bit. 

Malcolm smiled. This was the pinnacle of happiness. They could put all their current problems and situations aside and enjoy themselves. 

They had been in High Brasil for five days now, and it had been twenty since they had seen the other members of Oakley Street. Dame Hannah, Dr Carne and George Green should have got to Africa by then, but after only just being saved by the witches, Malcolm wasn’t sure if they had made it alive. 

A small but audible squawk came into earshot, and Malcolm turned to see Amos, Tilda Vasara’s arctic tern daemon, flying towards them , before sitting next to Asta on the ledge. 

‘I have news from Africa,’ the bird started, gaining everyone’s attention. ‘

‘Your fellow Oakley Street members are alive and well in Africa, and they have been there for twelve days now. Their negotiation with King Ogunwe has gone well- they got the same outcome as you- and my human has sent for some of her witch clan to protect them in Africa, although I’m not sure if the Magisterium actually know their whereabouts.’ 

This was brilliant news for them. They really had built an army, and they were ready to fight the Magisterium. They were ready to protect the world which they loved. They were ready to fulfill the prophecy. 

* * *

  
  


Professor Jotham Santelia was confused. He had been taken out of the prison by some strange men, and then dragged out of Svalbard altogether to a small facility which he assumed was somewhere in Tartary, or maybe Sveden. But he had been left there a few days ago, and the ex-professor had assumed that he was being left there to die. 

After five days, he started to really get worried. No one had come. Not to question him. Not to give him water. Not to give him food. 

But on the sixth day, he finally heard the door open and a streak of light finally entered the warehouse. Jotham could at last see where he was being held. 

It was a huge, bare room where a metal roof had broken down at the other side of the room, and the walls had started caving in on each other. 

He was tied to a chair, which was pushed right up onto the wall, and his eyes squinted as lights suddenly turned on and two men walked into the room. 

One had short black hair and stern blue eyes, dressed in a formal black suit which looked like he was mourning someone. The other was bald with ugly side-burns, and was dressed in the same manner as the first.

‘Good morning Professor Santelia. We have brought you some food and water which you can have  _ if  _ you answer our questions.’ 

‘God! The last time I heard what time it is was the last time I was addressed by that name! To what do I owe the pleasure, my friends?’ Jotham had no idea how people spoke those days, so he just had a crack at humour. But if the stern and utterly sincere looks on the two men’s faces were anything to go by, it hadn’t worked. 

‘We have stolen you out off Svalbard, and also, if you answer a few more questions after these, maybe in a few days, you will be a free man.’ 

The offer was very tempting; food, water and being a free man; but he wasn’t sure if he could answer whatever questions he would be asked.

‘We believe that you have recently been in communication with a very powerful angel called Xaphania.’

Jotham froze for a second. That work had been completely confidential, and he had been warned that if he told anyone, he would be killed. Surely Xaphania hadn’t told anyone either?

‘No. That name doesn’t ring any bells, I’m afraid. But, I could give you a lecture on cosmology, in trade for that food,’ he offered.

‘Professor Santelia, I’m not sure you understand. We are extremely powerful people, and if you’re not willing to co-operate with us, then we will use any means necessary to get some answers.’

He snorted in amusement.

‘What you gonna do? Bore me to death?’ He couldn’t stop laughing. He knew it would probably get him killed, but his situation was completely hilarious to him. Nothing made sense.

‘No, professor. We are going to torture you.’

The word ‘torture’ sent chills down Jotham’s spine. That was what they had meant. Oh shit. 

‘Are there any other questions you need to ask? I can answer most questions, but some are restricted!’ he shouted desperately as he saw the bald one walk to the other side of the room, and uncovered the fallen roof to find what he had been looking for. There were at least ten different torture instruments which were laid out neatly like cutlery. 

‘And why, exactly, are these answers restricted?’ The stern one asked, his eyes burning holes in Jotham’s skull. 

‘Because I don’t know them! And, you do know that torture won’t get any more answers out of me, you bald bastard!’ 

‘Well then we’ll just hand you back to King Iorek Byrnison. We’ll tell him you escaped in our boat, and we found you when we were clearing out. Then you will probably be eaten by the bears as a free meal.’

Professor Santelia knew that they had him there. His options were both going to end up horribly, unless he told them what he had done with Xaphania. 

‘Fine. Xaphania, a few other angels visited me in the prison one day and then, every few days, they would come and ask me more questions about cosmology and the fabric of time. At first I just answered her questions, because they took me out of the prison, and they gave me proper food. But eventually I gave in and asked them why they needed this information. It took them another few days before they told me, but they told me that if I told anyone, then they would kill me. They explained to me that there was a war coming, and that if the wrong side won, then everything good in this world, in fact, they said in all the worlds, would disappear. So they were creating a weapon which meant the right side would win. So I gave them more answers, and even helped them forge it a bit. When they finished it, they thanked me and reduced my sentence in prison to just two more years.’ He finally finished explaining, and looked at the satisfied expressions of the two men who stood before him. 

To his relief, the bald man put the torture weapons down.

‘But, if you don’t mind, I have a few questions, because this whole situation is crazy to me. Who are you, and who do you work for?’

‘We are a small agency who are based in another world, but have found ourselves in this world. We have been hired by a department of the Magisterium, and they have given us all the details we need. But we needed to get some more information for them, as one of the jobs. The other two are more confidential, but it doesn’t really matter if you know them. We have been hired to kill a man who used to work for us, and somehow also ended up in this world. His name is Valdese Gramovski. The other one, well we set it for ourselves. We have been intrigued by this war, and are going to take down the Magisterium and win this war ourselves. With any means necessary.’

During his confession, the man with the stern blue eyes reached for something in his pocket, and by the time he had finished saying, ‘any means necessary,’ he was pointing a gun at the Professor’s head. They didn’t even bother to clean up the blood. 


	4. Telekinesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The true extent of Valdese's powers is discovered as the Magisterium greet Oakley Street in High Brasil

Will and Lyra had never felt so helpless in their lives, and neither had Josephine, Mary and especially not Valdese, who was also still coping with the reveal that his father had been an owner of the subtle knife, and had been murdered because of it. 

The overall morale of the household had shot down significantly ever since the children had explained to Mary what had happened, from how the Magisterium had set the fire to when they had made a window between time. 

No one was in a very good mood, and nothing seemed to cheer them up. Things which Will would normally have been thrilled and overjoyed by, such as when his mother finally showed signs that she was nearly completely better to his time alone with the love of his life, everything was overshadowed by the fact that the war would soon be fought, they would soon lose and then every single good thing in all the worlds would fade away. 

But despite everything, Will still hoped that somehow there was a small chance that they could still win. And there were still so many more questions which needed to be answered, and he couldn’t put yet more stress on Lyra.

So once again, he found himself sitting down next to the coffee table in the living room where the Cave was positioned.

The headset felt familiar yet still uncomfortable as it settled on his head like a crown. The thin wire stretched out and he channeled his thoughts into a question.

_ Is Valdese right? _

_ About what? _

_ Is he right that the Magisterium have a knife which can cut through time, and that that was what you sent us to get? _

_ Yes. _

_ But if you wanted us to get it, how did the Magisterium? _

_ They have a way of manipulating certain beings. Angels are on that list. _

_ So what does that mean? Are we stuck in a stalemate because we have Valdese and they have the knife? _

_ It doesn’t mean that you are stuck in a stalemate, because you are more than able to make your next move, but it does mean that you are both on an equal playing field.  _

_ So can we still win the war, even though they have that knife? _

_ Yes. _

_ How is that possible? _

_ You have Valdese Gramovski. He holds more power than you think. _

Will started to feel nauseous, but he was determined to get more answers, because the only ones which he had been given so far held more questions.

_ Can he do things other than travelling between worlds? _

_ Yes. _

Will felt his mouth become suddenly unusually hot and his throat became very moisturized. Before he knew it, he had thrown up all over the polished, wooden surface. His head jolted upright again, but to his disappointment and annoyance, the screen was blank again. 

He went to the kitchen, grabbed a few paper towels and cleaned the mess up, cursing himself for thinking he could do more than possible. 

After putting the towels in the bin, he felt someone else’s presence in the room, and he turned around to find his mother standing by the door frame, her arm on the door for support, her eyes never leaving Will and her lips turned upwards into a smile. Even in their current situation, Will couldn’t help but be over the moon that his mother was finally getting better.

Will smiled back at her, a genuine smile. Even when he was in the worst mood, there were two people in the world who could suddenly make him feel happy again. His mother and Lyra. 

‘You don’t need to constantly stress yourself out on that, Will.’ She told him, her eyes indicating the sick which was now in the bin, just by her feet.

‘I’m sure that Mary wouldn’t mind having a go instead.’ She said, walking into the room and sitting by her son.

‘It’s not like that, mum. I need answers from this, and it only works every now and then.’

Before he could say the next thing he wanted to tell her, she engulfed him in a tight, loving hug. It reminded Will that this was the first time in five years that he had hugged his mother. He felt wet drops of salty water cling to his shirt, and knew that his mother was crying.

‘I’m so proud of you, Will. I need you to know that’, she said through sobs and tears,’Whatever you do in life, I will always be so proud of you. Everything you’ve done. I know I’ve really been a terrible mother-’

‘No, mum. You’ve been a brilliant mother, honestly. I had just been a terrible son. When I left you in the care of Mrs Cooper. That was stupid of me. And before that you were so clever, like that game in the supermarket which we used to play. Do you remember? Where we used to pretend that we could only get the products when no one was looking. You made a way of pretending that there was real danger, but at the time there were no real consequences. You are a brilliant mother, and always have been.’ 

Will felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, and he reluctantly let them cascade down his face as they fell onto his mother’s back. 

Although he knew that there had been some times when he had wished his mother had been there for him, he also knew that there must have been countless times when his mother had needed him. 

‘I love you, Mum.’ Will stated, his face buried in his mother’s shoulder.

‘I love you too, Will.’

* * *

  
  
  
  


Ozul Ivanovich had never liked Valdese Gramovski. Ever since they had first met under a bridge in Siberia, where Valdese had been living at that point in time, he had known that there was something different about that man. Then after he had been his boss for four years, he had suddenly left to become a scientist and an explorer. 

And then, many, many years later, he had a job in Oxford, where a college professor was wanted dead, and they had found themselves in another world. 

Ozul had never had many close friends or acquaintances, and had never trusted anyone in his life. In a life like his, especially in the industry which he worked in, trusting someone could be a fatal mistake, and would almost definitely lead to death.

He had once fallen in love with a woman. She had been beautiful, and while on an assignment in Rome, he had been ordered to kill her. But as soon as he had laid his eyes on her, he knew it was impossible. But, after bringing himself back to his senses with a huge amount of self control, he murdered the woman, claimed the money and never wasted a thought about her again in his life, although he knew that he would never love someone ever again. 

While killing was as easy as breathing for Ozul, he tried to only kill people who deserved to die. Once he had been ordered to kill a very popular and important public figure, who was the head of the biggest charity in the world. And despite the fact that the fee had been a lot more bigger than normal jobs, he decided that it wasn’t worth it and instead he had killed the person who had been paying them. 

So killing people he didn’t know was the easiest thing, like when he had shot Professor Jotham Santelia.

And then there was his most recent assignment. The target was definitely known and familiar with not just Ozul, but the organisation as a whole. Valdese Gramovski, once, in fact, had been the closest person to Ozul. 

The Russians had instantly been friends when Valdese had been homeless and orphaned, living off food he stole from wherever he could find it. Ozul had immediately taken him in after seeing his accuracy with a gun; he seemed to not know how to miss. 

But he had abandoned them. Normally, when someone left the organisation, they were killed after a couple of days, but Valdese had been careful to cover his tracks, and when Ozul had finally sent himself and two of his best men, Valdese had been two steps ahead of them. 

_ The blistering wind ripped through Ozul’s coat as they reached the hotel. The horrible weather in northern Russia was at its worst in winter, and it was apparent. The snow was three-feet deep, and all roads were closed. That was how he had decided that this was their chance to finally finish off Valdese. No one left the organisation willingly without being killed. Otherwise, they could be compromised, or worse, exposed. So on that day in January, they barged into the bar, where several men were drinking and chatting to the barman. The cold wind shoved the doors open and crashed into the pub. There was a pool table laid out in the corner where a single man stood, and a television placed on the till, where a sports game was currently playing. There was a small group of people crowded around the television, but when the three men- Ozul and his two best men- came into the hotel, everyone turned their attention to the new arrivals.  _

_ ‘Ey, man! Do you mind shutting the door?’ one of the men, who was swaying slightly and was clearly very drunk, asked in Russian. _

_ ‘Yeah, it’s bloody freezing out there!’ the barman exclaimed.  _

_ Although Ozul did shut the door, he made sure that everyone in the room knew who was in control. He reached for his holster and pulled out his gun, a simple but effective Beretta U22 Neos, the most convenient gun for a small, close-up job.  _

_ A few of the men in the men backed away, nervous and scared. But most of them, including even the barman, were drunk. What a shame.  _

_ ‘Ha! Do ya think we’re supposed to believe that’s a real gun! You bastard!’ one cried out laughter, standing up from his seat.  _

_ Many others followed suit, and despite the barman’s best attempts to stop them, being drunk made his attempts completely ineffective.  _

_ They charged at him, still off balance and all of them ended up just running into the wall instead. But they were persistent, and some charged at his men instead. A few of them grabbed shot glasses and chucked at them, the glass spraying all over the floor. One, which was aimed at Ozul, hit one of his men, and a piece of glass got wedged in his cheek.  _

_ That was the final straw. They all raised their guns and fired eight shots between them, each and every one of them hitting their targets.  _

_ Eight men fell to the floor, clutching the part of their body which had been pierced by a bullet. The floor became a bloodbath, as the men who had been shot became completely still and their breathing ceased.  _

_ The three men ran up the stairs, checking each room door by door. But they were all empty. Gramovski was definitely here though, because in the registration book at the bar, his fake ID was written in there, and it hadn't been logged out. They went back downstairs, where eight corpses lay sprawled out on the floor.  _

_ Ozul’s eyes swept over the scene, and looked back through his photographic memory. There was one change. The man at the pool table wasn’t there anymore. Ozul ran towards the door, and he saw the same man about ten metres away from the bar, his feet rooted in the snow. Finally, they had Valdese Gramovski. He had thought he could run away from the organisation, from Ozul? He was wrong.  _

_ The man took his hood off, revealing the familiar features of Valdese Gramovski. The same short, tangled hair and the sincere, brown eyes which were hard-wired to know everything about a single person with just one look. The same lips which turned down at the end in a permanent smile, and the same small beard which was a token of the hard life which the man had lived. And it was about to end.  _

_ The man stared at the three other men who had just come out of the bar, their guns trained on Valdese’s head.  _

_ ‘I’m sorry about this, Valdese!’ Ozul shouted over the wind, his voice triumphant. ‘I never wanted it to come to this, but you knew that you couldn't walk away from us, yet you did it anyway! And I have to hand it to you, you have done well to hide from us for this long. But this was inevitable, we all knew that! Eventually we would’ve found you, and now we have! We’ll always be a step ahead of you!’  _

_ Valdese just stood there. He didn’t even try to do anything. He didn’t try to run. He didn’t try to fight back. He didn’t even try to plead with them. He just walked forward, accepting his fate.  _

_ Until he was close enough to them. Then, with his arms outstretched, he felt a huge force at the top of his fingertips. He controlled it to make sure it didn’t consume him completely. Then he let it go. It was barely visible or audible in the snowstorm, but the effect was unmissable. Both men beside Ozul were flung backwards, their necks cracking and their lives being taken instantly.  _

_ Ozul fired three shots at Valdese, his eyes widening at what had just happened. But the bullets were stopped in mid-air and then crumpled up and dropped feebly into the snow beneath their feet.  _

_ ‘Ozul. You were always good to me. So I’ll let you go. But don’t ever come looking for me again. Otherwise you will waste your life on something pointless and worthless. Like you said, I’ll always be one step ahead of you.’ _

‘Mr Ivanovich. We need to set off soon if we’ll be able to make any progress today.’ 

A familiar voice woke Ozul up. His second-hand man, Kaya Featherstone, stood over him in his hotel room. Oxford was certainly different in this new world, but he knew that Valdese Gramovski would be in his home world. In a few days that man, who had tormented Ozul for decades of his life, would be dead. 

  
  
  


* * *

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door and Lyra quickly jumped out of the bed, getting her clothes on and flattening out the bed sheets in record time. Will does the same, and the second he’s done, Lyra opens the door to find Mary standing in the hallway, a concerned look on her face. 

‘What’s the matter?’ Will asked, genuinely apprehensive.

‘Well, firstly, your jumper is inside-out, and secondly, there’s something wrong with Valdese. To be honest, I can’t really blame-’ Mary started but was interrupted when Will rushed out the room.

Lyra apologised quickly before following her lover, who had rushed to where the sound of panting could be heard; the guest room where Valdese had been sleeping in the last couple of weeks. 

He was sitting at the bare, white desk. His eyes were blood-shot and all blood looked like it had been drained from his face, which was left looking pale and lifeless. His hair flopped around messily and his eyes were as if they were out of focus. They looked the worst out of all his features. The pupils had retracted and the iris had suddenly turned red. They stared directly forward at nothing in particular, and the lines of blood that provided his eyes with blood were now completely black. 

His breathing was fast and uneven, but it was more like panting. Sometimes when he breathed in, he didn’t even breathe out again, and visa versa. 

His body was leaning backwards against the chair, and his legs dangled helplessly. One of his arms were outstretched and his fingers were all slightly apart. All the veins in that hand and those fingers were bulging out, and the pulse was visible in them. All green ones had now turned into a dark red, verging into a black. 

Then Will directed his gaze to what his arm was pointed at, and he gasped. It was Will’s old model train set, which he had always used to play with his mother and his ex-best friend, Daniel Green. It was raised up in the air, above the desk, and was levitating. It had no support whatsoever. The track was below the trains, which were riding round slowly in a small circle.

Will looked at Valdese, then back to the train set, and back and fro until the reality finally settled in. The man in front of him, Valdese Gramovski, had super powers. Fucking super powers. 

* * *

The walk to the beach was in comfortable silence as Oakley Street made their way to the kingdom of golden sand and brilliant waves. The weather was perfect and the group had decided while they were still in High Brasil, they would try their hand at surfing. The beach which they were going to had been recommended to them by President Carlos Dias as it was ‘the best in the continent’. Although Bud had thought he had been exaggerating, he really wasn’t.

There weren’t even many people there, and the water was so serene, even with the waves (which were the perfect height for surfing). Their bare feet sunk into the soft as silk sand and the sun shone down on them, the slight breeze spurring the waves on. 

After doing a quick head count, Bud saw about nine other people on the beach, some lying down on sun loungers and some swimming in the warm water. 

His daemon, an owl called Keren, noticed one other man who was sitting alone quite near them, and had been following them ever since they had left the hotel. She passed that thought onto her human, who made a mental note of it. They would only take action if the man approached them, because they couldn’t go bothering everybody just because they looked suspicious. 

Malcolm went to hire some surf boards while Candace and Alice went to the public toilets to change into their swimsuits. But the man was still there. Bud couldn’t help but let his glance drift to him. 

He was wearing a black jacket with sunglasses, and his short black hair was messily sprawled over his head. He had a backpack slung over his back, he was rather tall, and his trousers had one pocket a lot bigger than the other. Bud wondered if something was hidden in it, but his thoughts were interrupted by Malcolm who called out to him.

‘Which size do you think you are?’ 

‘Just get me whatever you’re having,’ Bud said, his daemon still keeping her eyes pinned to the man who was now walking towards them. 

Candace and Alice came back, and Malcolm got onto his board first. He took it out to sea while Candace and Alice followed suit. Bud was last- reluctantly wading his way into the water- but he was still wary. 

To be fair, surfing was really fun, and watching Alice fall off her board several times was hilarious. But the ominous feeling of fear kept creeping back into Bud and Keren. 

Then after about half an hour, when Bud had finished a nearly perfect ride, the man approached him. He strided forward powerfully, his eyes not leaving Bud. 

As he came closer, the New Dane noticed more of the man’s features. He looked Brytish, with a very pointed nose, a stern expression and through the sunglasses, he had brown eyes where the pupils looked like they had gone missing. 

Although he was clearly not Brasilian, Bud did expect to hear him speak to him in Portugese. But the man seemed to be fluent in many different languages, because he opened in English.

‘Are you Bud schlesinger?’ the man asked, surprising Bud.

‘Yes, who are you?’ Bud questioned as Keren stared burning holes into the man’s cobra daemon.

‘Someone who knows exactly what you are doing here, and is willing to help you.’

‘So what exactly are we doing?’

‘You are recruiting an army to fight the Magisterium in the war which is soon coming. Although right now, you seem… distracted.’

‘How do you know this?’ Bud was confused, because the man was right, but did he know about all of this, and why was he here in High Brasil when he was clearly Brytish or European?

‘Because you aren’t very subtle in your business, and I have spent many years of my life on a specific subject which means I have complete understanding of an instrument which I think you have a great acquaintance with. An alethiometer.’

‘But why are you here?’ Bud was running out of questions, and by this time Malcolm had noticed and was running over to him, concerned.

‘I am here because I despise the Magisterium and knew that Oakley Street was here in High Brasil, so I wanted to help you.’

Malcolm shared a look with Bud, while their daemons discussed what was happening. 

‘Tell us everything you know,’ Malcolm told him.

The man took a deep breath.

‘I have asked my alethiometer many questions on this particular subject, and I have gained many answers, which includes your involvement in the coming war, how half of you have gone to High Brasil while the other half have gone to Africa to recruit an army, and how some other people also play a huge part in this war.’

‘Could you tell us who these people are?’

‘I don’t know much about these people, other than their names, but they are Will Parry, Valdese Gramovski and Lyra Belaqua.’

Bud’s eyes narrowed when he said Lyra’s name, because he was expecting that. It was because he had addressed her by her surname, and the alethiometer addressed her by the name Silvertongue. The only people who called her Belaqua were the Magisterium.

‘Could you show us your alethiometer?’ Bud asked; he wanted to make sure that the man was speaking the truth.

The man reached for his rucksack, and unzipped it while putting his hand in and rummaging for the alethiometer. But something else caught Bud’s eye first. It was placed at the top of the contents of the rucksack, and the man had hastily put it at the bottom when he had opened the bag. But Bud, Malcolm and their daemons had all seen it. 

It was a black cloak which was a trademark piece of clothing worn by the Magisterium. Bud’s suspicion was confirmed. 

As soon as he had processed what he had seen, Bud reached by his feet, where they had placed their belongings, and found the cold, metallic feeling of a gun. But the man had beat him to it. They faced each other, as Malcolm backed away, holding three other pistols. 

Bud was the first to say something. 

‘Don’t shoot. If you shoot, then you will instantly die.’ He told him, and although his heart was suddenly beating ten times harder, he tried to keep as calm as possible. 

‘Maybe I want to shoot you. If I shoot you, then my colleagues can get the others. I will die for my God. God wants you to die, and if that means taking my life, then I will more than happily let my life be ended.’ 

This was crazy to Bud. How could he think that he was serving God by murdering him? Is this the reason the Magisterium had murdered children and done all of the other horrible things? Because they believed that they were serving God? It was bullshit. 

‘Believe me when I say God would not want you to use that gun. No one does, except the sick-minded people who work in the Magisterium.’

‘Well if the people in the Magisterium are sick-minded, then so are I. Because I work in the Magisterium, and they’ve sent me here. But I’m not alone. They have an army, and they know exactly where you are. You won’t stand a chance against them, because we have not only the power of God on our side, we have the most powerful weapon in all the worlds!’

‘What’s that? Bullshitery?’

‘Oh no, it’s much worse than that.’

Bud felt a cold feeling run up his spine, but forced it down again, telling himself that the man was lying. But with a huge amount of self-control, he focused on the situation at hand. 

As he looked up again, he saw a sudden movement and instinctively moved across to the side, as the world seemed to move in slow motion. He saw a bullet fly past him, where he had been standing a few seconds ago, and the pure look of passion and anger on the man’s face. Then he felt a warm liquid fly onto his hand. He looked down and saw blood trickle across his arm. Horror spread across his face as he searched his body for any sign of a wound, but there was nothing. That was when the reality hit him that he hadn’t been shot; the man had.

Alice was holding the gun which had killed him. She was standing by her surfboard which bobbed up and down softly in the water. Her hands were trembling on the trigger, but as soon as the man fell to the floor, she dropped the gun and looked like she was going to collapse. Bud felt pale, and his eyes drew shut as he let the fear and worry take over him. He felt his heart falter and an unbearable pain in his stomach. His lungs tightened unevenly and his breathing faltered. 

He forced the pain back down again, but like a float in the water, it kept coming back up. He fought in, like a war raging inside his body. His chest heaved as his panting grew louder and louder. He felt more pain in his head and throughout his body and his limbs. His whole body ached but he kept attempting to defend himself against the pain.

Then he realised that he had done well, and that there was no point in trying to fend off the pain. His job in keeping his side of Oakley Street safe was completed, and when he went to the world of the dead and eventually came out again, he could watch his fellow colleagues, his fellow  _ family,  _ in the war which he had helped in. 

So he let out a huge breath, and stopped struggling. He stopped writhing, he stopped fighting and he stopped panting. He let the pain take over him, and with one last look shared with his daemon, they died.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bud Schelsinger was probably my favourite character in Book of Dust volume one & two, so it is very sad to see him go, but at least he died peacefully and wasn't murdered by everyone else...


	5. The showdown. Part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozul Ivanovich prepares for murder, whilst Lyra turns to the only person who she really trusts.

Ozul Ivanovich couldn’t wait to get his revenge on Valdese Gramovski, who wasn’t just his former employee, but also his former friend, which wasn’t a word which came up a lot in Ozul’s life. So revenge was a must for Ozul, who would use any means necessary to murder the Russian. 

He had many men on his side, who had impeccable aim and unparalleled accuracy, including him and his second-hand man who had served him for just over twenty-four years, Kaya Featherstone. 

So as they sat on the first zeppelin ride from Geneva to Oxford, Ozul felt all his senses completely focused on the task at hand. This was his first ever job where the outcome was not just for the payer, but also for him. He didn’t want to kill Valdese. He needed to kill Valdese. 

‘Mr Ivanovich, we have arrived at Oxford. The payer said he will meet us in Jordan College. The master of the college, as you know, is a Magisterium representative himself and he also is one of the payers on this assignment.’ 

‘Yes, Kaya. But you know what we do with our more affluent payers. As soon as the job is done and we have been paid, get Paul and Maeve to dispose of him.’

‘Of course.’

They got off the zeppelin, and made their way to Jordan College. The other world was so different to their own, but there were some similarities, like the names of places and it seemed the education system was also the same. But other than that, Ozul hadn’t noticed much similarity about their worlds. 

The grounds at the college were brilliant and had clearly just been manicured, as the grass gleamed while the sun shone down on the towering buildings. 

The master and a few men dressed smartly in fully black coats came out and greeted them just at the front of the building.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Ivanovich. I hope it is true that you really can dispose of anyone you want to.’ The master asked, a fake smile plastered onto his face.

‘Yes, I can. I wouldn’t question if I were you.’ A temporary sarcastic smile shone on Ozuk’s face before he realised that the master didn’t know the full extent of what that meant. ‘Anyone,’ he added.

‘Good, once the job is done, we will pay you the money,’ the master said as they walked inside, keeping their voices down.

‘What about deposit?’ Kaya asked.

‘What?’

‘Deposit. The money you pay someone before they are going to do a job for you.’ Ozul gave them the definition.

‘Right… we don’t have that in this world. But-’

‘Well we have it in our world, so if you don’t pay us the deposit then the deal is off!’ Kaya told him firmly.

Ozul smirked at Kaya’s swiftness and determination, and if the confused and hushed conversation which was going on between the Magisterium men and the master, it had worked.

‘Fine, we are willing to pay you some deposit, but it will be taken out of the large sum of money which would have been given to you after the job.’

It wasn’t much of a difference to what would have been the final outcome, but showing their superiority was a must with clients who doubted it. And Ozul would definitely show their superiority when the job would be done. Definitely.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Lyra Silvertongue was used to trauma, frustration and helplessness in her life, like when she had lived in Jordan and Lord Asriel had never let her come with him to the North. 

But although she never thought she would be helpless when she was Will, the constant thought that the world was ending was quite off putting. But they had been given new hope when Valdese had first displayed his… super powers. Will had explained that to her as well as a few other concepts from his world. He had told her about telekinesis, which was the only one Valdese had shown yet, but Will had asked the Cave about it and there were others. No one had verbally addressed it, except from Lyra and Will, but the new hope had been needed. 

She was lying in bed with Will holding her in his arms, and although it felt like bliss for her, she was distracted. She was thinking about the knife which the Magisterium had come into possession of.

Suddenly, she felt a horrible nausea overcome her, and she rushed out of the bed to the nearest bathroom. Once inside, she looked at herself in the mirror. This wasn’t the first time she had felt like this that week, and she was starting to get worried. 

Then she felt a warm liquid come up her throat and she jumped towards the toilet as it escaped her mouth. Most of the vomit went into the toilet, but some missed, and she cleaned it up. She hadn’t mentioned anything to Will, or anyone in fact, because the fact that she might be pregnant on top of their current circumstances might tip him over the edge. He might become extremely angry and blame her, and then she would’ve really lost everything. 

But if he really didn’t want it, he had had a chat about ‘contraceptives’ and ‘abortion’ and if she was right, he had said an abortion meant she could get the baby removed. And that was only if he didn’t like it. So that was when she decided to tell him.

After cleaning herself and the bathroom up, she went back into the bedroom, where Will, Kirjava and Pan were still fast asleep. For a second, she considered letting them sleep because he looked so adorable when sleeping, with his brow furrowed and his face looking extremely concentrated. 

But then, when she was about to wake him, Kirjava sleepily opened one eyelid and eventually both when she saw Lyra standing over her.

‘How long have you been awake, then?’ she asked.

‘Just a few minutes. I need to tell you and Will something,’ she explained.

‘Alright, I’ll wake him up.’ Kirjava told Lyra before screeching extremely annoyingly in Will’s ear.

‘Shut up!’ he shouted, before slamming the pillow back over his head.

Kirjava and Lyra shared a look, both of them biting their lips to stop them from bursting out laughing. 

‘Lyra wants to tell us something,’ Kirjava told him, to which in response he jolted upwards, his eyes groggy and his eyes half-shut. 

They woke Pan up, and Lyra felt her nerves trembling. What if it would make him hate her? What if it ruined his life? What if this meant they lost the war and he blamed it all on her?

But Pan, who knew Lyra’s dilemma, nestled in her lap, which immediately calmed her down.

‘Well… over the past week, I’ve not been feeling the best,’ she could’ve started crying of laughter at the sudden concern in Will’s eyes, ‘but I think I know the reason.’

‘Why? If you list me all the symptoms, then I can probably diagnose what you have.’

Lyra and Pan both chuckled at how worried Will was.

‘No, I don’t have a disease or anything. Will, I think I’m pregnant.’ 

His face seemed to be frozen, his expression unfathomable. Lyra waited for any reaction at all, but he and Kirjava were both completely still.

‘Holy shit,’ was all that escaped Will’s lips.

Lyra was instantly worried, and was about to turn away and go back to the bathroom to clean up the tears which were creeping into her eyes, when she felt Will’s comforting hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see a genuine smile on Will’s lips, and that made the tears clear themselves in her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Will.’ Lyra told him.

Will shook his head.

‘Why are you sorry?’

‘I’ve ruined your life and any chances of us winning this war, because of this stupid baby!’ she felt a sudden anger course through her body.

‘Lyra, it’s not your fault. This was bound to happen when we didn’t use any contraception, and that’s my fault because only I knew about them,’ Will reasoned.

‘You can’t just blame yourself, Will!’

‘Well then it’s neither of our faults, is it?’

Lyra paused, processing what he had just told her. 

‘Fine. But I’ll feel even worse carrying this child if you don’t want it, and even if it isn’t my fault, I still think I shouldn’t keep it. I mean, I’m seventeen years old!’

‘You’d be a brilliant mum.’

‘But do you want this child, Will. It’s not what I want, because I still don’t have any opinion on this, so do you want this.’

Will had known that question was coming ever since the start of the conversation, and he was still not fully prepared for it. He tried to go through all the positives and negatives, the pros and cons of having a child this early.

Lyra was right in saying it could ruin their chances of winning the war, but if either of them would’ve died during the war without the child, then they wouldn’t with the child. It could pull him and Lyra apart, which was the worst thing imaginable for Will, but it could also bound them closer together. 

‘Yes. I do want the child, but only if you’re okay with it,’ he told her, finally making up his mind, before realising something. ‘You don’t actually know if you’re pregnant, do you?’

‘No, but I can ask the alethiometer.’

‘Actually, I think I should get us some pregnancy tests, because they are extremely reliable.’

‘Are you questioning my ability with the alethiometer?’ Lyra asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

‘No, it’s just that I think it would be better to also use some pregnancy tests,’ Will said hastily, thinking that Lyra was genuinely annoyed at him.

‘It’s fine, but I’m gonna use the alethiometer anyway.’

As Pan scrambled up to fetch the alethiometer, Will thought about the beautiful, perfect woman in front of him, and how he deserved her. But the most surprising part of it all, the most nerve-wracking part, but also the most exciting part, was that she was carrying his child. _His child._

The reality finally hit him, like a wrecking ball, and he didn’t regret his decision. 

‘It says… I think it says… I’m just gonna double check,’ Lyra told him, while her concentrated face tracked the tiny needles which swerved across the golden compass.

‘Will. I’m pregnant.’ Lyra finally told him, her face filled with excitement, hope and nervousness.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Valdese sat down at the table, his head half-covered by a wired and halo-like headset, as he looked at the currently-blank screen. Although he had seen and observed Will and Mary do it, he had never done it himself. 

But no matter how much thought power he put into a single question, he couldn’t get it to work. But there was one question he really needed to know. 

_How do my powers work?_

He had had them for as long as he could remember, and had never told anyone about them, although he had used them quite a lot. Despite that, he had always known that they would get him in trouble, so only used them in public if necessary. 

But he didn’t know the limit of them, and why he had them, other than how he had recently learnt who his father really had been. But how did that affect him, and his _abilities_? 

Then he realised that he could use his powers to make the Cave work. He lifted his hand, closing eyes before focusing on channeling all his inner strength into that action. The tips of his fingers went numb as he felt pins and needles creep into his hands. 

Then the screen went from black to white, flickering into life. 

He hastily put the headset back on and once again tried to get a question through, and this time it worked.

_How do my powers work?_

The question appeared on the left side of the screen in clear, bold writing, and the answer quickly followed.

_They work because of how your parents were from different worlds._

_But how can I make things happen, like telekinesis and levitation?_

_Because of Dust._

_Then what lets me control Dust?_

_Because of your heritage, Dust is attracted to you, and an unusual amount, you must know. So much that you can control it, use it, to do certain things. Every single living thing succumbs to Dust, because it is attracted to everything. That means you can use that Dust against them, because when you come into contact with another being, the Dust which was attracted to them travels to you, and then you can use that to do what you want to them._

_Then how did I control the train set?_

_Because you can still do what you want to non-living entities, but you are just less powerful, because you have gained no Dust from whatever it is._

Valdese had gotten all of the answers he needed, so he took the headset off and the screen once again went black. Then he realised there was one more question he needed to ask. It had been itching away at the corners of his mind after he learned the truth of his parents.

_Do I have a sibling?_

_Yes; a younger sister._

_What is her name?_

_Lyudmila Gramovski._

  
  


* * *

‘Are all the snipers in position?’ Ozul asked his assistant, Kaya, as they approached the address they had been given of Valdese’ current location. 

‘Yes, Mr Ivanovich. We have the S.W.A.T team lined up, circling the house, and each of our eight snipers all have a secure location on different buildings.’ 

‘And the S.W.A.T team are each on frequency 13, so when we give the signal, they will burst into the apartment building?’

‘Yes, Mr Ivanovich, I have been through this multiple times. They will disable the cameras, then get to the fourth floor, where he lives, and while the snipers lock onto all windows, they will ram the door open and take out everyone inside.’ 

‘So nothing will be going wrong, I take it?’ Ozul asked, secretly pleased with himself that he was finally one step ahead of Valdese Gramovski.

‘Nothing.’

‘Good.’

As the church clock nearby struck twelve, Ozul knew it was time to make their move. Every single one of his men were on this mission, and they had planned out every single move. Ozul wouldn’t have it ruined by everything, and he would kill anyone who got in his way. 

He took out his walkie-talkie from his coat pocket and turned the frequency to thirteen. He felt his blood pumping quicker than normal, and the adrenaline rushed through his body as he told himself, _this will be the final day Valdese Gramovski will be alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does a lot of setting up plot points which come later in the fan fic and even in the third and (probably) final installment. While the controversial topic of pregnancy (at 17!?) does make an appearance, and will play quite a huge part in the story, it was bound to happen... wasn't it?  
> Up next, is a hell of a lot action as Ozul finally gets revenge on Valdese! Warning for a few extremely horrible words, and lots of graphic descriptions of violence.


	6. The Showdown. Part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I haven't upped the rating yet, but this chapter has a lot of really horrible words, but if I could up the rating for this chapter only, I would. Also, there may be quite a lot of violence, blood and I'm sorry for what is about to happen. Anyway, enjoy the chapter! :)

‘Will… Will!’ Mary shouted down the hallway.

Through the corridor, she saw Will appear, rubbing his eyes, and clearly yearning to go back to sleep.

‘What?’ he asked, annoyed, as Kirjava weaved between his legs. 

‘I… I’m not sure. But you see those men out there? I think they’re carrying guns. Do you think it’s the Magisterium?’ she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she pointed out the silhouettes down on the road.

‘Surely they can’t be back for more again? Not after we beat their arses twice?’ Will remarked, his eyes suddenly focused as they burned in pure hatred and anger. 

‘You’ve seen how powerful Valdese is, and they had him in the palm of their hands. But now he’s with us, and you’ve seen how desperate they are to get him back,’ Mary pointed out.

‘Should we wake him? After all, it is the Magisterium then we don’t really stand a chance without him, after he displayed his… super powers.’ It sounded stupid and crazy when he said it aloud, but they had all seen it, and they couldn’t all be hallucinating, could they? 

‘Yeah, wake up everyone except from Elaine. She deserves some rest, and she’s still so close to tipping over the edge, so it could kill her.’

Will bounded down the hallway, Kirjava leaping in front of him as she went to wake up Lyra and Pan, while Mary went down the staircase to where Valdese was lying on the sofa, Evin by his legs.

‘Valdese!’ Mary called as she came into the room. ‘Valdese! Wake up!’

He jolted up, after clearly not being able to sleep again, and turned to Mary.

‘They’re here.’ He said.

‘How did you know? And are you sure it’s the Magisterium?’

‘No. It’s not the Magisterium. It’s an organisation… I used to work with them, and they’re here to kill us. I know because I got… something like a warning. But we need to get out of here. They will come in any second now.’

‘But can’t you fight them? How can you take the Magisterium, but not some bloody organisation who probably never killed someone before?’ Mary asked, annoyed that they had to run away again. It could be the final straw for Elaine.

‘Mary, killing people is what they do. They are a contract killer organisation and no, they are not stupid. They are extremely clever and strategic. There is no way I can fight them all. He has all his men out there, and I can’t fight them all,’ Valdese stated.

‘Who’s he?’

‘Ozul Ivanovich.’ Evin came out from beside the sofa, and told Mary the name of the man who had tried to kill them multiple times. ‘He won’t stop at anything before he kills us.’

‘But there’s nowhere we can go. We’re gonna have to fight them. We have no other option.’

‘I can travel between worlds. We can go anywhere we want.’

‘But if we do that, we still have the war to fight, and they’ll just be one more hindrance. If we take these… enemies one at a time, it will be a lot easier. There’s no way we could fight the Magisterium and this organisation combined, so we have to take this fight.’ Mary told him, and she could see that Valdese knew that she was right.

‘Fine. But we need to get ready. Otherwise…’ Valdese couldn’t finish his sentence before there was a loud banging at the door. But it wasn’t someone knocking at the door, it was someone trying to knock down the door.

‘Oh shit…’ Valdese cursed before racing to get his gun. 

‘No, Valdese. You need to use your powers. I’ll take the gun.’ Josephine told him as she, Lyra and Will all came into the room, their daemons ready to fight. 

The slamming at the door was persistent, and there were multiple dents in the wooden frame. It was only a matter of time before it broke down completely.

‘Quick, everyone get down! They’ll come in backed by gunshots in case we are waiting for them, so everyone, get a hiding spot and don’t make a sound!’ Valdese whispered, but loud enough so that everyone in the room heard.

They all had some sort of a weapon; otherwise they wouldn’t stand a chance. Will had the subtle knife, Valdese had his powers, Lyra had Valdese’ pistol, Josephine had Valdese’ rifle and Mary was carrying the sharpest kitchen knife she could find. 

While the two lovers crouched behind the sofa and make-shift bed, Valdese, Mary and Josephine were silent behind the kitchen table. 

Then the door came crashing down. Like Valdese had anticipated, the sound of raging gunshots were screaming through the room while hushed voices were also audible. Valdese could only make out a few things of which they were saying.

‘Go round the back.’

‘Through the hallway!’

‘Kill anyone else who is in the building.’

But then he heard multiple footsteps hurry into the room, and the number of people increased drastically- from five to about twenty. 

A few of them stayed in the kitchen, surveying all of the possible hiding spots. 

Then it hit Mary that she had been wrong to leave Elaine in the bedroom. The men’s voices echoed around in his head. 

‘Kill anyone else who is in the building.’

But if they went back to save her, the men in the kitchen would see her and, undoubtedly, kill her. But clearly, Will was having the same thoughts racing through his head, and after one shared look, Will knew what he had to do.

‘Stay here, Lyra.’ He whispered to her, planting a firm hand on her shoulder. She tried to protest, but Will made sure she wouldn’t follow him. 

‘Take them out,’ Mary told Valdese.

‘What?’

‘The ones with us in the kitchen. You need to take them out.’

‘Why?’

‘Elaine.’

Valdese nodded, and then purposely used his telekinesis to lift up a plate and throw it across the room. The soldiers in the room with them shouted in that direction, and had their guns trained at the TV on the other side of the room. Valdese shifted along, so he could see them. There were four of them, and they were all focused on the spot he had thrown the plate. He focused his mind and lifted up his stronger right hand. Then there were four audible cracks as all of the soldiers fell to the floor, their necks and spines snapping in one horrible, gut-wrenching movement. 

Them another noise filled the (for the most part) silent air. At first it was just one crash, then another and another. Then with fifth crash, a soldier came swinging through the window on what looked like a zipline, right behind Mary and Valdese. They all saw each other at the same time, and after a second of processing the other’s presence, the soldier reacted first. 

He moved his finger to the trigger and hastily pulled it backwards. It had been aimed straight at Mary’s  neck, and the bullet had been on course to hit its target, until Valdese reacted next. He lifted his hand up and the bullet was now visible as it stopped in mid-air, like someone had paused a movie. 

It was golden and extremely sharp, but overruling all of that was the fact that it was a murder weapon. 

The man stood stock still, having no idea that Valdese was using his telekinesis, and that was a fatal mistake when Valdese thrust his hand forward, and consequently, the bullet flew forwards into the man’s chest. 

Blood spilled everywhere, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will give Lyra one last kiss and then race down the hallway She just hoped that she hadn’t single-handedly sent him into his very own coffin. 

  
  


Will sprinted down the hallway, keeping his back to the wall and making as little noise as possible. 

The apartment wasn’t that big, so the soldiers wouldn’t be too far ahead. He could just about make out the heavy sound of their footsteps on the glass-covered floor. If there really had been about fifteen men before, there must be about twenty now, he thought to himself. But he had to save his mother, even if it meant having himself killed. He held the subtle knife in his right hand, while he had the pistol which Lyra had given him in his three-fingered left hand. 

Then he noticed that the soldier’s weren’t checking all of the rooms; they were only heading to the back end of the apartment, and as he caught up with them, he saw them run straight past his mother’s room. 

He breathed out a sigh of relief, and then silently turned the door handle, before creeping into the room and turning on the light. 

‘Will?’ his mother sat up, hearing Will come into the room, but to Will, that single exclamation could kill them both and potentially the rest of the party… and Lyra. 

He held his finger to his lips, then indicated to her to get up and leave the room. But before she could do anything, the loud beating of feet on the carpet became audible. Will’s instincts took over as he man-handled his mother under the bed and reached for the pistol. Although it felt heavy and… just wrong in his hand, he would use it to protect his mother without a second thought. 

Then a man, dressed in a black jacket and holding a huge sniper which was definitely made for long ranges, came into the room. Will pulled the trigger immediately, and the impact was evident. The man was about to fall asleep, but Will managed to catch him, and gently place him on the ground. 

He felt horrible carrying a dead body which  _ he  _ was responsible for, but more footsteps were coming closer. 

‘Mum… Mum, just stay there. If anyone comes in the room, then don’t make a sound and stay exactly where you are.’ Will told her, but she looked confused, and then her expression turned to horror when she saw the dead body lying on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. 

‘Will, please tell me what is going on- I can help you! Please! I can’t lose you again!’ she was now sounding desperate, and Will felt worse than he did when he killed the man, walking away from his mother. But he knew it was for the better, and he strided away from the room without a second glance. If he had glanced back, he wouldn’t have been able to leave her, so it wasn’t a matter of he wouldn’t look back, more rather he couldn’t look back. 

He sprinted back to the living room, as he heard gunshots scream behind him. None of them hit him, but he felt like leaving his mother had left a deep enough wound in him already. 

‘They’re coming, all of them! There’s about twenty! Valdese, you need to get ready,’ he told them.

‘Where’s Elaine?’ Mary asked, her face filled with concern.

‘I couldn’t take her, so she’s hiding in her room, but I made a big enough distraction, so they’re not going to check her room.’

More gunshots echoed in the hallway, and then, the men charged into the kitchen, their guns held up carefully, as their eyes surveyed the suddenly quiet room. 

  
  


Josephine, who had been lying beside the oven, shifted her position slightly so that there was about a millimetre of space where she could see them and possibly shoot. Her rifle’s barrel was thin enough to fit through the gap, and she lined it up with the first man who came into the kitchen. Her finger hovered over the trigger, and when she knew the shot would hit its target, she pulled her finger backwards. Or, rather, she would have, but then she felt a strong grip around her neck. 

‘Well, well, what do we have here?’

  
  


There were too many men in the room- there was no way they could win. Lyra and Will were sitting with their backs up to the coffee table, but it would only be a matter of moments before they found them. In fact, it would only be a matter of moments before they found the whole party. Then she heard one of the men call out that he had one of them, and the next thing she knew, Josephine was being carried to the clear leader of the soldiers, who Lyra assumed was ‘Ozul Ivanovich’. The people really knew what they were doing, though, because none of the party could let them kill Josephine when they could stop it. So as Josephine begged, pleaded and whimpered in fear, Lyra stood up and fired all the shots in her cartridge recklessly. 

Four of them hit their target, but now they knew where she was, and before she knew it, Will tugged her back down and then the soldiers came to them. 

No matter how hard Will and Lyra scratched and clawed and bit, the soldiers’ hold was too tight and then they were in the same situation as Josephine. 

With guns roughly pushed firmly to their temples, Lyra watched as Mary also gave herself up, and then it was just Valdese left. He couldn’t use his powers, because if he put his hands in the air, the soldiers would know and murder Lyra, Will, Mary and Josephine without hesitation. They were cold-blooded like that. 

‘Come out, Gramovski! I know you are here! There’s no hiding from us! You may have escaped from us before, that was twenty years ago! Now how the tables have changed! If you make a single aggressive move, then your little ‘friends’ here will die instantly. And you’ll have to see it! Your stupid powers can’t save you now, you twat!’ Ozul shouted, his voice triumphant and his pride and cockiness evident. 

Then Lyra heard a faint noise, and so did everyone else. It was like someone physically draining the energy from someone else, and transferring it to themselves. 

Then Lyra saw, from the spot where Valdese was hiding, something familiar happen. She uttered a quiet, ‘no’, under her breath, as she watched. He was opening a window into another world. 

Ozul, who was holding the gun to her head, shouted out to him again, but this time his voice was frustrated and annoyed. 

‘Yeah! That’s right, you pussy! You always ran away! You’re nothing but a stupid, ignorant motherfucking c-’

But he couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, because the window closed, and let out a heavy, angry sigh. 

Lyra felt betrayed. She couldn’t believe that Valdese had walked away from them; that he left them to die.

He had been their only hope, and now he was gone. They had all put their trust in him, and he had beaten it away as easily as swatting a fly. Now they were all going to die. The war would be lost. Everything good and beautiful in the world would fade away until it was nothing but darkness.

‘Bastard,’ Ozul shouted, his anger taking over him, ‘well now he’s single-handedly given you your death warrant, your fates are sealed. You can blame him, that stupid bloody-’ 

But once again, he was interrupted. The noise came again. Then small, silver particles which were dotted around all the humans in the room, became evident. Lyra knew them instantly to be Dust. 

For a few seconds, she was confused. But then she realised what was happening when she saw a slight crack begin to appear in the middle of the air. While all of the soldiers faced towards the front door, observing the Dust, Valdese was opening a window back into their world. 

But somehow, Ozul knew it was a distraction, and he saw when Valdese opened the window. 

Despite this, the anger, frustration and vengefulness was clouding his judgement, so he raced forward with his gun, and when Valdese suddenly appeared, Ozul charged into the other world. 

Valdese took advantage of this and closed the window. But by now, the Dust had become non-visible, the soldiers had seen Valdese come back, and it was a full Mexican standoff. 

The Russian had his hands raised in the air, and he would kill all of the soldiers if they fired any bullets whatsoever, because they still had a gun pointing at Will, Mary and Josephine.

For about a minute, but what seemed like an hour to Lyra, no one dared move a muscle. Then one of the soldiers shot at the light bulb, which hung freely above the kitchen table. 

It came crashing down as glass splintered everywhere and all light went out. No one could see anything, but Lyra managed to hold onto Will as they rushed to the corner of the room, the safest place to be. Multiple gunshots could be heard as well as screams and shouts of confusion, but before long, Valdese used his powers to make the Dust re-appear. It lit up the room, and they saw all of the corpses lying down, fresh bullet wounds evident as the floor became completely drowned out by the red liquid. 

But Josephine was one of those bodies. Lyra gasped, and felt the tears well up in her eyes. There was no chance she was alive. She had been bang in the middle of the room; it was inevitable that she would’ve been a victim of it. 

The fight was still going on as Valdese fought off the soldiers, and Will went in to help, but all of the noise was drained out for Lyra by the voice in her head which was repeatedly telling her the truth. Telling her what had really just happened.  _ Josephine was dead. She’s never coming back.  _

Then before she could gain any strength in her body, she crumpled to the ground as she let the tears flow down her face like a waterfall. She put her hands over her ears and blocked out everything else which was happening. Because Josephine was dead. And it was all her fault. 

Will pulled the knife out of the soldier’s arm before lunging in to stab another man who was trying to take out Valdese, but the man was anticipating it. He grabbed Will’s right hand and held it firm while slamming the other into his jaw. 

Will felt the skin open up as blood poured down his face. He kicked out at the man before trying to loosen himself from the strong hold, but nothing was working. Before he knew it, the subtle knife was out of his hand and was being held against the front of his neck. He could barely breathe without his skin making contact with the silver, gleaming blade. 

‘Gramovski! Don’t move! Give your life, or the boy will die!’ Kaya Featherstone shouted to Valdese, who stopped abruptly as he saw Will in danger. Mary stood up from her hiding place when she heard Kaya's words. 

Will wanted to say something, but he was pretty sure if he said anything, it would slit his throat. But he didn’t want Valdese to give his life just to save him. Without Valdese, they would never be able to win the war. 

He just about managed to shake his head at Valdese, who looked at him with a sad look in his eyes. Will knew what that look meant. 

Valdese nodded at Kaya, as he put his hands down and kneeled down. Kaya triumphantly pulled out his gun, still holding the knife to Will’s throat, and was about to point it at Valdese, when a voice sounded from behind them. 

‘Get off my son you son of a bitch!’ Elaine shouted before picking up the kitchen knife from the table and driving it into Kaya’s neck. 

Will felt the grip on his neck loosen and he managed to catch the subtle knife as it fell from Kaya’s hand. 

In one swift movement, Valdese leapt up from his kneeling position, lifted his hands into the air and snapped the necks of the remaining five soldiers. 

There were about twenty dead bodies in the kitchen, all very horrible and very dead. But Lyra couldn’t get it out of her head that one of them was Josephine. 

‘There’s still one person we have to deal with,’ Valdese said, before he opened a window into the same world he had left Ozul in earlier, and he was still there. 

As soon as he saw Valdese, he started shooting at Valdese wildly and recklessly, but the Russian had it completely in control. He froze all of the bullets, and was about to make his former colleague suffer very much, when a gunshot broke the silence and Lyra stepped forward, the rifle which Josephine had been using in her hand. 

The bullet had only hit Ozul’s leg, so he was still alive, but Lyra had anger in her eyes, tears streaming down her face and she could only see red. 

‘You killed Josephine.’ She said to him, staring him right in the face. ‘And you have murdered countless other innocent people. You are the most ignorant, cold-hearted twat I have ever known. You deserve to be tortured to death, and to suffer so much, because you have made so many other people suffer. But I’m going to just kill you right now, because you don’t deserve to live a minute longer.’ 

Throughout the whole of her talking to Ozul, she never once looked away; never once blinked. Then, as soon as she had finished, she shoved the rifle so the barrel was right up against his stomach, where his heart was, and then pulled the trigger without any regrets.    
After killing him, Lyra stormed back into Will’s world, where she ran straight into her and Will’s room, slammed the door and hid in the corner, as the tears re-started, flowing freely down her face. 

Although they had won the fight, they killed Ozul and they had managed to take one step closer to winning the war, it did not feel like any bit of a success to Lyra. 

The annoying yet honest voice in her head wouldn’t go away. But she couldn’t blame it, she could only blame herself.  _ Josephine was dead.  _

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wipes his teary eyes* And another one bites the Dust! It's very sad to see one of the main characters die this time, but after all of the dangerous things they do, it was only realistic that one of them was eventually going to not make it. But I told you I was sorry, so don't be angry!


	7. The lost sibling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyudmila Gramovski had always know she had been different. Her backstory only backs this up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while to get out because I'm on holiday in the Isle of Wight! :)  
> Anyway, warnings in this chapter again for bad language, violence and child abuse. Yeah, Lyudmila's backstory is pretty harsh.   
> But from the ashes of darkness comes light?... I hope...

Fra Pavel was not in a good mood. He was worried, apprehensive and petrified all at the same time. All the feelings swirled around in his head as he walked down the corridor, the dim anbaric lights giving the only lights, as the blinds were tied tight shut. 

As his frog-daemon crept into his sleeve, he reached the door which he had been instructed to enter, and tried to calm his nerves down. 

Then he put his hand on the handle and turned it, striding into the room. 

‘Ah, Fra Pavel. I see you have made it out here to Oxford; how was the zeppelin ride?’ Father Montgomery asked, from where he was sitting with his assistant, Father Jian. 

‘Good, thank you, sir. I know it is not my place to ask, but why have you called this meeting?’ Fra Pavel asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling. 

‘You’re right- it is certainly not your place to ask, but I will answer your question. When we went to the Torre degli Angeli to gain possession of the knife, we stumbled upon something of an underground graveyard where every former owner of the subtle knife has been buried. And we saw on one of the tombstones that the name was Alexander Gramovski. As you know, we have recently been chasing the man called Valdese Gramovski, Alexander’s son. After contemplating it ourselves for a while now, we have realised that there is still one piece of this huge jigsaw puzzle missing. Or rather, like a huge tapestry. The Magisterium would be in the centre, surrounded by the angels, the witches, the boy and girl, Lyra Belaqua and Will Parry, and Valdese Gramovski. Oakley Street would also be put somewhere near the middle. But if you just use that, none of it adds up. And I think there are two missing pieces. I’m not sure about the second missing piece yet, but Father Jian and I think we know what the first is. We think Valdese Gramovski had a sibling.’ 

* * *

Lyudmila Gramovksi, thirty-one years old, had always known she had been different. Her parents had died when she had been eight, and she had been forced to fend for herself. Well, not exactly, because she had her daemon, Alexis, who had been with her through her whole life. When she was fifteen, she had taken the form of a nightingale; a small beautiful bird who had always been there for Lyudmila.

They had travelled for the most part of their life; on their house-boat which had been her father’s until the incident. 

Despite how close she was to her parents, they had only ever been there for Lyudmila about half the time, and when they weren’t there, she was always put in the care of the cruel childminder who looked after the children at the orphanage. She beat the children constantly, and when Lyudmila had finally plucked up the courage to say something to her parents, the nanny had never been seen again. 

Like her father, she had been born in Russia, and that was where she had lived during her childhood.

She had done most things like any normal child there, like going on a few holidays, playing with her friends, and going to school. But although she had never thought of anything to describe it, she had known ever since her first interaction with someone other than her parents, that she was somehow different. 

She had never actually had any friends, mainly because the children at the school liked to bully her, meeting her after school to attack her and kick her, and despite the fact that that hurt very, very much, it wasn’t the worst thing they did. The thing which angered her the most was the constant names they called her parents. 

_ ‘Bloody drug addicts!’ _

_ ‘Fucking tossers!’ _

_ ‘Alcoholics!’  _

They had all hurt Lyudmila in a way she couldn’t really describe, and they led to many  _ accidents.  _

Where she lost control of her body and something bad had happened. 

Every time she felt the same sensation; the tops of her fingers tingled as she felt the blood flood through her body quicker, and the energy mounted up around her, like it was anticipating something which would happen. And something always did happen. 

Whether they ended up with a broken arm, a fractured collarbone, or worse, all the children eventually worked out that she was different, and consequently they called her names and managed to get her kicked out of school. 

She wanted to confide in someone other than Alexis, who was as clueless as her, and she wanted to tell her parents, but she never got the chance. 

On the date they had promised they would return, instead a man, dressed solemnly in a black suit and black trousers, broke the news. 

The worst possible thing which could happen. 

The bad news; the horrible news; the  _ shit  _ news. 

She had never sworn before that, but she found herself cursing at everything she saw and everyone who tried to comfort her. 

The one teacher who had seemed to understand came to her house and that had helped when no one said anything. 

Then she had offered for Lyudmila to live with her, and it was something of a lifeline. She had gratefully  accepted, and that was the way she had lived for three long yet quite pleasant years. 

Although every day seemed to just be a repeat of the previous day, Lyudmila was eternally grateful and found herself enjoying life. She mourned her parents, but finally managed to tell someone about her… abilities. 

She told her teacher who was looking after her- Mrs Vincet- about them, and although she didn’t believe Lyudmila at first, she gave her teacher and carere proof, and then Mrs Vincet helped Lyudmila keep them subtle and to control them. 

But then, after four years, on her thirteenth birthday, they had a visitor. Lyudmila had been in the middle of opening her two presents, both from Mrs Vincet, when there had been a knock on the door. 

The old teacher had opened it to two huge, intimidating men standing there, both of them armed. 

That day still haunted her whenever she tried to sleep, and she could remember what everybody said, everything which everyone did, and especially what the consequences were.

_ ‘Hello! How can I help you?’ Mrs Vincet asked in her usual light, polite voice.  _

_ ‘We are looking for Lyudmila Gramovski.’ One of the men said in a deep, gruff voice but Lyudmila noticed none of that, because as soon as she heard her name, her blood froze in her body.  _

_ ‘Oh… um who are you?’ Mrs Vincet asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.  _

_ ‘We are people who are here to help her. We understand her parents have very sadly passed away recently.’ They explained. ‘We would just like to ask a few questions.’ _

_ Another man, smaller yet seemingly more powerful, came up from behind the men and spoke.  _

_ ‘My name is Ozul Ivanovich. It is nice to meet you Mrs…?’ _

_ ‘Vincet.’ She replied before letting the men in.  _

_ ‘Liddie? Some men are here to see you,’ Mrs Vincet only ever called her that when she was worried. And when the men finally came into view, she saw what she meant.  _

_ ‘Hello Lyudmila- my name is Ozul, and I was very close to your parents and your brother.’  _

_ Lyudmila was hit in the face, heart and brain by that piece of speech like a very painful rock, slapping her into reality. _

_ ‘Brother?!’ she asked incredulously.  _

_ ‘Yes, your brother. His name is Valdese Gramovski. He is quite a bit older than you, but you’ve never seen each other. You see, he lives in another world, and when your parents went on those long trips, they were looking after your brother in that other world. But your brother didn’t die in the accident. He is still alive, but now he is missing. If he comes to visit you, please give us a call and let us know,’ Ozul told her, kneeling down so they were at the same height, because even though she was thirteen, Liddie was extremely small for her age. The man passed her a card which read his phone number and his name on it. _

_ ‘On second thoughts.’ Ozul took his hand and placed it on Lyudmila’s back, and she was instantly on edge.  _

_ Mrs Vincet cleared her throat from behind them.  _

_ ‘Liddie, are you okay with these men helping you? It will be something like therap-’ _

_ ‘No, Mrs Vincet. Our job here is done. And we would also be grateful if you could not call the police when we take her.’ _

_ ‘What?’ Mrs Vincet asked, like she had been slapped across the face. ‘I am her rightful carer- it is against the law to take her from me! You can’t hurt her!’  _

_ ‘Do we look like people who obey the law?’ Ozul asked, cocking an eyebrow and reaching for his pocket, where he pulled out a pistol.  _

_ Lyudmila and Mrs Vincet both gasped.  _

_ And that was their fatal mistake.  _

_ Ozul fired one shot straight into Mrs Vincet’s neck, and she fell to the floor, instantly being killed.  _

_ Lyudmila cried out as the only person besides her parents who had ever properly loved her and cared for her died, just like her mother and father.  _

_ ‘Come on Liddie, don’t worry, it will get better. You just have to help us. Then we can give you a proper home.’ Ozul told her, placing his other hand around her waist and lifting her up.  _

_ But there was no way she was letting this monster of a person take her after what he had just done.  _

_ ‘This was a real home you bastard!’ she cried out, before screwing everything Mrs Vincet had ever told her about controlling her anger and lashing out.  _

_ She felt the same sensation and then let all of her anger into it, her mind swirling with possibilities.  _

_ Then she breathed a single sigh and let it all out. The effect was visible. The effect was devastating.  _

_ Every single thing in the small house shattered. Whether it was a drinking glass, a chair or even a bathtub, it broke into a million pieces. But it had no effect on any of the humans in the room. Lyudmila was confused; she had only ever used her abilities on humans, but now it wasn’t working on them.  _

_ She was about to try again, but Ozul grabbed hold of her with a tight hold around her neck. She couldn’t breath, and consequently couldn’t use her powers.  _

_ ‘Come on you bitch!’ he shouted before passing her over to the other men, still keeping hold of her neck.  _

_ Liddie felt her lungs about to burst, and the air was about to leave them for the last time.  _

_ She had about five seconds to live unless she did something.  _

_ So she kicked out with her legs, and managed to connect with the most… fragile part of a male’s anatomy. The grip on her neck ceased and she breathed heavily, air finally coming into her grateful lungs.  _

_ But before she knew it, Ozul leapt at her with the pistol in his hand. She instinctively reached out her hand and the impact was immediate.  _

_ Ozul flew backwards across the room, his back slamming into the wall.  _

_ ‘Never try to bother me again, or else I will kill every single one of you. So go. Fuck off, you bastards.’ She told them firmly, before they hurried back out of them, and she turned to Mrs Vincet, who was lying down by the kitchen table, blood pouring out of every part of her body.  _

_ With her abilities, she cleaned up the blood, and with one final act of anger, she completely destroyed the card which Ozul had given her, so that none of it could be seen.  _

_ But the same though kept bothering her for days on end; why does everyone who cares for me end up dying.  _

That one day marked her for the rest of her life; a permanent scar that would never leave. 

It also set the tone of struggle and defeat which would come in the following years. 

From that day onwards, she was on the run. She lived in her parents house-boat and never stayed in one place for more than six months at a time. She sailed across the world and did small jobs for money- whether the ‘jobs’ involved stealing from people, killing people or being a prostitute- she never enjoyed them but knew that she needed the money. 

She had also never got into any relationships- friends or lover- in fear of what happened to Mrs Vincet and her parents happening to them. 

She had lived like that until she was twenty-four, a vaguely unremarkable lifestyle but one she knew would be her only chance of survival.

But then for the first time in eleven years, something interesting happened. 

But the word interesting isn’t necessarily a good thing. 

  
  
  


* * *

_ The heavy sun shone down on her body as she made her way through the bustling town of Cairo.  _

_ Camels ran through the city centre as her eyes darted from pedestrian to pedestrian, looking for the man who had paid her the majority of money which she had earned in Cairo; for reasons she would never share.  _

_ It was a Sunday, so the market was thriving with civilians travelling from far and wide to buy needs and goods, since the market had pretty much everything you needed  _ and  _ wanted.  _

_ In fact, she would later want to treat herself to some sort of sweet food after she collected her money.  _

_ That very thought made her eyes move quicker and then she saw  _ him. 

_ He was sitting at a bench by a meat stand, where he was having a chat with the owner of the stall.  _

_ When he locked eyes with Lyudmila, a small smile flickered up on his face, while a scowl appeared on her’s. She stormed over to him, before to her surprise, he placed his arm on her shoulder and smiled at her, ruffling her hair before he turned to the stall-man.  _

_ ‘Ah, Mohammed, meet my daughter, Liddie! She is-’ he started, before Lyudmila interrupted. _

_ ‘I’m not his bloody daughter!’ she shouted before trying to wriggle out of the man’s hold. _

_ She was about to make an aggressive move against him when she felt something metal and heavy being placed in her left hand.  _

_ She briefly looked down to see four huge gold coins, each being worth two-thousand egyptian pounds. She immediately shut her mouth and smiled up at her ‘father’.  _

_ ‘We’ve been having a bit of an argument recently, but he is my father.’ Lyudmila told the meat-man, who was looking a bit suspiciously at her and the man.  _

_ ‘We should be going now. I might come back and buy some of that camel leg you were telling me about.’ The man told him, as he tugged on Liddie’s shirt. _

_ ‘Come on you bitch.’ He told her, pulling her through the congregation.  _

_ ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, trying to get out of the man’s hold. She wanted to use her abilities to do something, but that was probably why the man had chosen the most busy and populated day of the week in the Egyptian capital.  _

_ ‘You don’t need to know that.’ He told her roughly, his voice harsh and gruff.  _

_ She wanted to say something else, but she knew that whatever this was would end in money for her, so unless she was told otherwise, she would follow whatever he told her to do.  _

_ They walked for what felt like a long time to Lyudmila in the blistering and sweltering heat, but she had been counting both the number of steps she had taken and each passing second, and it had only taken three minutes and twenty-four seconds before they reached a building which he said was the one.  _

_ From the outside, it looked like many other shops they had passed on the way there, and Lyudmila was confused how the man could tell the difference, but she didn’t doubt his ability; there was a certain ominous feel about that particular building.  _

_ There were shattered glass panes at the front of the ex-shop, and whatever had been inside it had been taken out, because now it was just a barren, empty floor with absolutely no contents, except from a small back door and a spiralling staircase in the back left corner of the shop, but you couldn’t have spotted it from the front of the shop because it was concealed by its colour; it was exactly the same shade as the walls, and Lyudmila presumed that it had been done on purpose.  _

_ The man leads her up the stairs, so carelessly that she nearly falls down them several times, but after what Lyudmila counts as nineteen steps, they reach the second floor.  _

_ Like the first floor, the majority of the floor is empty, but although it was similar in its open plan floor, the second floor had one chair placed exactly in the middle of the room, and two more placed around the edge.  _

_ ‘Sit down there. Take off your clothes.’ The man told her firmly. ‘The man will be here soon.’  _

_ Lyudmila had been in many of these scenarios before, and did as she was told. Life had been rough to her, and being a prostitute was one of the easiest ways to make money- especially when she had what all the men told her was ‘a slim, sexy body’. _

_ ‘What is his name, and why didn’t you tell me what the hell was going on before?’ she asked, a little pissed off.  _

_ ‘Because although I know you have no obligations with being a prostitute, since when did I say that this job involved that?’ _

_ ‘When you told me to take my bloody clothes off!’ Lyudmila remarked as she took off her light T-shirt and shorts. ‘Besides, you haven’t even told me what the rewards are.’ _

_ ‘Well, the coins you gave me earlier make up for all of the jobs you have done earlier this month, and because this job is very… difficult, you will get paid one- and a half- thousand egyptian pounds for this alone.’ He explained as Lyudmila finished stripping. He didn’t feel uncomfortable seeing her naked; in fact, he had hired her as a prostitute many times before.  _

_ The words which the man spoke to her were good news, but they also sent a shiver down her spine. Especially the word ‘difficult’, and the emphasis he had put on that word.  _

_ Before she could question him about it, there was a faint thudding and then a man, who looked like he was from… Texas? appeared, walking up the stairs with his rabbit daemon in tow.  _

_ ‘Mr Ahmian. Good to see you again,’ the Texan spoke.  _

_ His voice defied all expectations Lyudmila had had for him, and it also made her extremely uncomfortable, being naked in front of him.  _

_ Because he sounded nice. Not a lot of nice people had featured in her life. But she could tell by his tone and the way he walked, the form his daemon had taken and how he smiled at Mr Ahmian and then at her.  _

_ ‘You too, Mr Scoresby. You didn’t tell me much in your letter in advance, so do you mind telling me exactly why you have come all the way from New Denmark in your… zeppelin?’  _

_ ‘It’s a hot air balloon, Mr Ahmian. And from my recent travels in Turki, I have heard rumours. Quite a few in fact.’  _

_ Lyumila’s blood went cold. Turki was the last place she had stayed, and she had only moved to Egypt two months ago, and she had nearly been found out in Constantinople.  _

_ ‘And although all of those rumours varied, they all circled around the same thing. A girl, maybe a Russian spy, with special… abilities. And then I remembered when I last worked with you, Mr Ahmian, and how you give certain ‘jobs’ to people who are just visiting Egypt. And it would make sense to come to Egypt from Turki, so I tracked you down here, Mr Ahmian, and you told me about a girl you had temporarily working for you. I knew it couldn’t be that much of a coincidence, so, here I am.’  _

_ Lyudmila’s worst fears had come true. She had been found out. And now she was about to pay the price. But what happened next was something she could never have anticipated.  _

_ Mr Scoresby had turned to Mr Ahmian and reached for his pocket while walking towards him.  _

_ Both her and Mr Ahmian had thought he was just paying him, and he did pull out a few Egyptian banknotes, but they concealed something else. A gun. A small handgun, a pistol, and the next thing she knew, Mr Ahmian was lying dead on the floor. Instinctively, she had scrambled behind the chair for cover, and when she poked her head out and saw the blood pour everywhere, the flashbacks began.  _

_ She saw Mrs Vincet’s body lying there, limp, on the ground, drowning in a pool of her own blood. She remembered the gut-wrenching sound of the gunshot, and the gaping whole in Mrs Vincet’s body. The red liquid flying everywhere, staining everything, and the tears welling up in her eyes as she heard the thud of Mrs Vincet falling to the ground.  _

_ Then she felt a hand tug on her own shoulder, and was pulled back into the present.  _

_ Mr Scoresby was standing over her, keeping his eyes on her face, which wasn’t something many men did when she was naked.  _

_ ‘Come on kid. You need to put some clothes on, and then we can get out of here.’  _

_ Lyudmila, having been snapped out of her trance, nodded briefly before hastily running over to the pile of clothes in the corner and putting them on. She had so many unanswered questions, but she was used to just doing what she was told and not asking any questions.  _

_ Once out of the building, Mr Scoresby led the way to his hot air balloon, explaining his occupation as an aeronaut, and asking her a few questions, most of which she didn’t really want to answer.  _

_ When they finally reached the balloon, he gave her a coat as the temperature shot down dramatically.  _

_ At first she was going to ask why he was being so nice, or how much she owed him, but she remembered her parents, she remembered Mrs Vincet, and she remembered that kindness was a thing in her world.  _

_ ‘Thank you, Mr Scoresby.’ She said, a genuine smile spread across her face for the first time since she had lived with her old teacher. _

_ What Mr Scoresby didn’t realise, was that that wouldn’t be the last time he looked after a girl who called him ‘Mr Scoresby’, who would be like a daughter to him, and whom he would grow to love.  _

_ Lyudmila’s life from then on was a lot better. And none of it would’ve happened without Mr Scoresby.  _

_ All he had asked in turn was that she helped him with a few chores around their house, and that she helped him with some of the usual dilemmas in life, and she was more than happy to do that.  _

_ In his words, ‘It’s damn useful to have a bloody psychic helping around the house!’  _

_ But, when she got a job in New Denmark, and Mr Scoresby was called to Svalbard after hearing one of his closest friends was being kept there, they had had to say goodbye to each other.  _

_ It was a time of tears, sorrow but also hope and happiness.  _

_ Then, of course, almost two years later, she heard the devastating news that Mr Scoresby was dead.  _

_ She had gone into mourning briefly, but soon realised that he wouldn't have wanted her to.  _

_ She thought he had also died because of her, and she started going into depression and hating herself.  _

_ But what she wouldn’t know for another while, that was another whole story of the Magisterium, angels, knives, alethiometers and a girl called Lyra and a boy called Will. In fact, it wouldn’t be too long until she got to meet these two children who had saved the universe.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Lee Scoresby was my favourite His Dark Materials character, so I knew when I started this fanfic that I needed to include him at some point. I hope I did him justice :)


	8. The Harpies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father Montgomery faces a possible set-back while Josephine finds herself in another world.

Josephine woke up again in practically the exact same place she had felt the searing pain in her chest and neck, along with the sound of multiple bangs of gunshots. 

She had thought she had died. But now she was here. Surely this couldn’t be heaven or hell? This was just… the same place she had been shot. There was no more pain in her body, which was weird, and then she looked around the building; desperate to find Lyra. 

But before she could find her best friend, she noticed something. Jairus wasn’t with her. 

Her daemon, the one thing which had been her with and through everything in her life was gone. 

She felt tears creep into the corners of her eyes, and before she knew it she was weeping, crying, sobbing. 

She was like that for at least an hour, but in the place wherever she was, it seemed like time was irrelevant. 

She heard passing footsteps, which was strange, but she was too distracted to care. 

She eventually decided to get up and look for Lyra, because as she had told her, she had been separated from her daemon, Pantalaimon, before. 

But once again, she searched for what felt like hours and found nothing. It was the exact same layout as the flat- the same kitchen, the same living room and the same bedrooms, but there was no one there. 

Only a huge pool of blood in the middle of the living room and the kitchen. 

Then she heard more footsteps outside of the front door, and was instantly even more puzzled, because it was a sixth floor flat, so why would there be that many footsteps outside. 

Trying to keep her sorrow away, she strided to the front door and opened it to see a bleak, cobblestone path which looked like it led on forever. 

Next to it was a small hedge which had been trimmed perfectly, and it all looked so picturesque; too picturesque for Josephine’s liking. 

There was an open field next to the hedge, but no one was farming in it, no one was playing in it, no one was even there. 

Everyone was following the path, and they were all following it in the very same direction. 

And that was a hell of a lot of people. Hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands, all walking on the path into the distance. A congregation, a festival, but that was another odd thing. Not a single person was socialising, trying to have fun, no one was even trying to speak a word. 

Every single thing around Josephine was silent, except the odd baby crying and the curious child asking questions, no one dared make a noise. 

_ This must be hell,  _ Josephine thought to herself. Did everyone just walk in that direction for eternity? Was that the punishment for a life of corruption and badness. 

She eventually decided in her head that her best option was to follow the endless path like the endless amount of people who were also doing that. She also noticed that none of them had daemons. 

But the most surprising thing, which came after about twenty minutes, was that the path ended quite abruptly. Some people just carried on walking,  on a path which wasn’t visible to Josephine, so this was her stop. It looked at first sight like a small ghost town, an abandoned fishing village like the one Lyra had described to her. But when she started walking further into it, she noticed that there was rather a lot of light and all of the houses were all inhabited. 

There was something like a church, something like a shop and at the very end of the stretch of buildings, was something which resembled a tourist office. Josephine thought that was the best place to start. 

When she reached it, she took one look inside and knew instantly everything she needed to know. 

There was one man working there, who was about fifty years old by the looks of it, and inside the building, which was about one-and-a-half metres square, there was nothing but a single chair, desk and light bulb which dangled loosely on a single piece of string from the bland ceiling. 

She cleared her throat, and the man looked up from the desk. There was something about him which made him look like an alien; he didn’t look human at all. 

‘Please may you help me, sir. I think I’m lost.’ She started, trying not to let the panic seep into her voice. 

‘They all say that, sweetheart. But none of them are. With two exceptions. But other than that, you are all the same now. Whether you were a billionaire, a homeless person or even a witch, no one is worth anything more than anyone else. I don’t know how to put this in a good manner, but you’re dead. Completely and utterly, one hundred percent dead.’ The man told her, grinning grimly, and he did it all so effortlessly that it was as if he did it a million times a day. Which, now that she thought about it, he probably did. 

‘So… is this hell, then?’ 

‘You could say that, but all of that, everything you have ever been told about heaven and hell, a peaceful afterlife, that is all bullcrap. Everyone who’s dead, everyone who has ever died comes here. No exceptions. You could have been the purest soul to ever live, or you could have been the meanest person in all the universes, but they all end up here. Not in this town, no, this is only for temporary accommodation. When you’re time is ready, the boatman, who is down by the beach, will row you across the lake to the land of the dead.’ 

‘So what is this place called then?’ Josephine asked, thinking she was starting to piece it all together. 

‘This is the suburbs of the dead.’ 

_ Wow… there’s a lot of the word dead around here.  _ She thought to herself, before trying to find herself a room for the night. 

* * *

‘Fra Pavel, are you sure she is in New Denmark?’ Father Montgomery asked the alethiometer reader, as the zeppelin driver called out for the last time. 

‘Yes, sir, I have triple checked, each time against the symbol books. She got a job there about six years ago, and has lived there ever since.’ Fra Pavel answered. 

‘Good, Father McGregor will be in charge while we are gone, but as long as everything goes to plan, we should be back in short time.’ 

As soon as the opportunity showed itself, Fra Pavel rushed away, his frog daemon leaping behind him.

Father Montgomery walked up onto the zeppelin, where his assistant was already sitting at the window seat. Father Montgomery almost wanted to burst out laughing. His assistant knew fully well that he always took the window seat, and he had now just stolen it without even discussing it!

‘Father Jian, please may I have the window seat, as you know I always take it to be next to the view, and every time we have been on one together, I have always taken it. If you really want, you can take the window seat on the way back.’ 

Father Jian let out something more of a mumble, his dog daemon let out a growl at his eagle daemon and Father Montgomery was extremely amused. It was as if his assistant had suddenly turned into a grumpy teenager! He decided to be the man about it, though, because he thought he knew what was causing it. 

When they had first come into possession of the knife, Fra Pavel had warned him of certain side effects which came against the man who the knife belonged to. 

That was why Father Montgomery had given it to his assistant, and the thought had bugged him ever since. 

But a month had passed, and no side effects had shown themselves, but that was probably because they hadn’t used the knife much. 

But now, Father Montgomery realised that he couldn’t let his assistant have possession of the knife for much longer. Because with Father Jian’s body strength, fighting ability, the knife in his possession and the anger which would be in his body as a side effect, no one would be able to stop him. 

Not even his boss, Father Montgomery would be able to. And that would ruin everything he had worked for, everything he had fought for. Because that knife was the most powerful weapon in all of the world. 

Except two certain Russians, who’s parents had come from two different worlds, and therefore had been gifted with abilities such as travelling between worlds, telekinesis and levitation. 

* * *

Josephine hadn’t had the best night’s sleep. The room she had slept in had been extremely uncomfortable, although the family who had owned the house were very kind and charitable. 

Images of them night prior had filled her dreams, forcing her to whimper, to cry, to scream as she heard the cracks of gunshots and the unbearable pain as the blood seeped out of her body through the gaping hole in her chest. 

Multiple times she had woken up the family which she apologised for, but she couldn’t help but think what would happen if she slept like that for the rest of her life. It would make her life miserable. Wherever she was, it certainly wasn’t the paradise in heaven which she had been taught when she was younger. Was the afterlife purely just pain and torture? 

In the morning the next day, she sat at the table in the kitchen, eating breakfast with the family. The food was rather nice and nourishing; a warm loaf of buttered bread and a cup of milk; but there was quite an awkward silence at the table. Josephine presumed it was because the family had probably been there for years, hell, they probably lived there, and she barely knew anything about it, except that people went there when they died. So she decided to ask a few questions.

‘Once again, thank you for letting me stay the night and sorry for the screaming. But do you know much about this place? I know it is where dead people go, but other than that, I don’t know anything. Is this like… hell?’ 

‘Dear Josephine, you need not apologise for the screaming nor thank us for letting you stay with us. But in answer to your question, this is neither heaven nor hell. This is where everybody goes when they die.’

‘I know all of that- the man at the tourist office place told me. But do you know anything about the real… land of the dead?’ Josephine asked, remembering more of the details of the past day. 

‘Oh, we don’t know anything about that, dear, since we’ve never been there. But we do know how you get there and how you know when it’s ready.’

‘How?’

‘Well, there is something called your Death-’

‘Well of course I bloody know that. I died literally yesterday for God’s sake!’ Josephine shouted.

‘Yes, honey, I know, but this is different. Your whole life, your Death has been following you. Staying a short distance behind you, close enough so that it never loses you, but it is invisible to everything until you’re ready to take the trip to the land of the dead. When the time is right, it puts its hand gently on your shoulder, and takes you to the boatman. He has a small rowing boat down at the harbour, by the river. He takes you across to the land of the dead. After that, no living soul will ever know what happens.’

The last few words triggered something in Josephine’s memory. In the story which Lyra had told her about the war. Her and Will had gone down into the land of the dead. Everything made so much more sense now. 

And they were wrong. Two living souls did know what happened, and it happened because of them. Now, because of them, she could live happily ever after rather than being tortured eternally by the harpies. 

Then she felt a strange sensation. It was like when she had pins and needles, but in her shoulder. Like when she hit her funny bone. Then a slight weight, and she realised what was happening. It was her Death. Her time was ready. 

She saw the shocked faces of the family, and Josephine managed to wave goodbye before she was swept somehow gently out of the house. Outside, although it was the morning, it was completely dark, and the only light was the gentle glowing of the street lights. 

Her Death guided her, always with that firm but soft hand on her shoulder, down a cobblestone path, along the road, down an alleyway, across another road, and then finally to the harbour, where it let go of her. 

Before she could protest, she was being shoved onto the boat by the man who must be the boatman. 

The small rowing boat looked rusted by time, and the oars looked on their last legs and worst of all, the water looked like it had been transported from a murky bog where all of the rubbish of the worlds had been tipped in. 

Josephine couldn’t quite figure out what colour it was, but one thing was for sure; she didn’t want to end up in it. 

Another person was put in the boat with her- an elderly man who had a crumpled up face with sad, quietly devastated eyes and a wrinkled mouth where the corners turned down in something between a frown and a scowl. 

‘Young lady, do you know where we are going?’ The man asked Josephine. His voice was surprisingly calm and kind, but the sadness was still audible in his voice. Josephine presumed he had lived a sad and horrible life.

‘I think we are going to the land of the dead, sir.’ Josephine told him, not wanting to give away everything she knew.

‘Bollocks.’

‘Pardon?’

‘I lived a perfect life. Even when my wife, two sons and daughters were all taken away from me, I still had faith in God and that God would provide a perfect afterlife. But so far, after I’ve died, there has been nothing but darkness and even more sadness. It’s all bollocks.’ 

Josephine didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to go more into the subject of losing his family; she didn’t want to rub salt into his wounds, but she needed to reassure him that everything would be alright in the end without giving away everything she knew. 

‘Sir, I’m very sorry about your family, but may I suggest that this might be a final test. God might’ve done this deliberately to separate the faithful from the unfaithfully. If you act all miserable and devastated, you will stay here, but if you embrace your life here, then you might be sent up to heaven.’ Josephine suggested, and she could see that the old man was contemplating whether to believe her or not. 

‘Thank you, young lady. I will embrace life here, because I  _ do  _ have faith in God. And this  _ is  _ one final test, and I  _ will  _ pass it.’ For the first time since she had seen him, he smiled.

‘We’re here.’ The boatman, in a gruff and deep voice, told them. 

He docked the boat, tying it to a single pole, and gesturing for Josephine and the old man to get out. Josephine, trying to be polite, let the old man out first, and Josephine was about to leave herself when she remembered something.

She turned back to the boatman, who was back in the boat and getting ready for the return journey. 

‘Um… excuse me, boatman. They made it back to the real worlds.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Lyra Silvertongue and Will Parry, the two living souls which you rowed to the land of the dead. They made it back to their worlds.’ Josephine told him, and saw the remembrance in his eyes. 

‘Thank you for that information. Maybe I shouldn’t doubt humans anymore.’ 

With that, Josephine followed the rocky path which led up a small hill. There was no sign of the old man who had been on the same boat as her. 

She looked around. 

There were small, bright, colorful and vibrant trees which gave the place a cheerful note. The rocky path ended and turned into perfectly trimmed grass. 

She looked forward and saw a stone wall. In the middle of the wall were two huge oak doors, with an unlocked padlock around the handles. 

Then, crouching on the branches of the trees, she saw them.

She was shocked at first, but the creatures were beautiful. They had many scars, and their elegant wings were tucked neatly behind their backs. 

Josephine instantly remembered them from Lyra’s story. These were harpies. 

One of them flew briefly towards her, then stopped when it was about three metres away. Josephine presumed this was because she would normally be scared of them. 

‘Do not be scared, my dear friend. We are harpies, and we will guide you to eternal happiness. We only ask one thing in return. For you to tell-’

‘Us your story in return.’ Josephine recited. 

‘How did you know that?’ The harpy asked incredulously.

‘Do you remember two children who came down here when they were alive. Their names were Lyra Silvertongue and Will Parry. They were in possession of the subtle knife. I was Lyra’s best friend. Then, while in battle on their side, I was shot. But she told me all about her travels, and when she came down here with Will. How you attacked her, but you were then captivated by her story, and how you were offered a deal by the Gallivespians.’

The harpie’s soft frown turned into a smile.

‘Do you mind telling us your story, but only from when you met Lyra. Just for confirmation that you did know her.’ 

Josephine was more than happy to. 

‘Well, I met her before she came here. Because I was being held by the Magisterium at Bolvangar, a place…’

Josephine then recited her story, right from her first meeting with Lyra in Bolvangar, until she died fighting with her best friend in a different world. 

The harpie, who had identified herself as Beautiful Wings, a name given her by Lyra, was about to lead her into the land of the dead, when another thought occurred to her. 

‘Beautiful Wings, is there any way you can get out of the World of the Dead?’

‘Other than the window which Will Parry made, no. Why do you ask, Josephine?’

‘There is a war coming. And if the Magisterium wins, everything good in all the worlds will disappear. And right now, Lyra’s side is a bit outnumbered. I was wondering if you could assist them in the war? And also if you could ask for the help of the angels?’

‘Of course, dear Josephine. That girl showed us the good in the world, so we will be forever in debt to her. And we will try and communicate with the angles to see who they side with.’

Josephine knew about how Beautiful Wings felt, being forever in debt to Lyra, because although Josephine died for her, Lyra saved her life, was nothing but perfect to everything, and she had even saved the whole universe. 

But what Josephine didn’t know was that Lyra wouldn’t be able to save the whole universe a second time. 


End file.
